


Hirudinea

by gintokiu



Category: Gintama
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood, Blood Drinking, Blood and Gore, Cussing, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Heavy Drinking, M/M, More Characters to Be Aded, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sexual Content, Warnings May Change, vampires and hunters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-02
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2019-06-01 00:52:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 32,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15131480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gintokiu/pseuds/gintokiu
Summary: The sun is setting, and it’s not like he’s going to burst out in flames when his skin gets a little UV rays on it, it’s just irritating as hell. This time is no different, and he swoops into Otose’s bar before the kids can realize he’s down there. He feels bad, he really does, but there’s nothing he can do about it.“Look here, back from the dead at last.” Otose smirks, already pouring him a glass of… something. He grins back at her, acknowledging the joke. It’s between them, a small little thing, but one Gintoki treasures nonetheless.





	1. Smoking Should Only Be for the Immortal and Impatient

**Author's Note:**

> hi im back and im actually really looking forward to this. this story was originally made to fix things that i thought i was weak in, but then i kind of fell in love a little. whoops.  
> enjoy.  
> \- Alex
> 
> (also shout out to my best friend for beta reading this, you're the best and i love you. <3)

Ah, it was hot. 

Unbelievably so, actually. 

Painstakingly hot. 

Curse this summer heat. And the sun. And his stupid skin. 

“Gin-san! You’re awake! This is a first… in what? A week?” Shinpachi says, taking his shoes off at the door, groceries swinging from his wrist. Shinpachi gets nothing in reply other than a grunt, and Gintoki just flops back over, pillow covering up his head. “Why don’t I open up the blinds, maybe the sunlight will wake you up a little bit!” 

“No! No! _No!_ I’m awake!” Gintoki hops to his feet, a grin across the boy’s lips. There was no evil intention behind that smile, he knew there wasn’t, but the way it shined still mocked him all the same. Gintoki brushed the wrinkles out of his favorite green pajamas and oh, he was still holding the pillow. 

“Aw, don’t be like that, Gin-san. Sunlight is good for you, you know?”

“Too bright. Sensitive eyes.” He pulls down his eyelid, sticking his tongue out at the boy. “The sun is going to set soon anyways.” 

Shinpachi sighs, giving up on the blinds and going into the kitchen to put up the groceries. “Speaking of which,” he calls out, “where’s Kagura-chan?” 

“Dunno, the dog isn’t here so I would imagine she took it for a walk.” Gintoki plops right back down in the same spot he was in before, turning on the television to a boring soap opera.

Shinpachi lets the conversation drop between them, mindlessly cutting up the fish he’d just bought for dinner to put them in the soup he was going to make. “So, when’s the next job?” 

“Tonight.”

“Of course it would be, you never take any jobs during the day anymore.”

“Too damn hot outside!” He whines, the façade necessary for their safety― and his own. It never was easy, and he knew it was never going to be. 

“You say that every time! Just borrow Kagura-chan’s umbrella! We need money to eat, Gin-san!” 

“The jobs I take on during the night are way too dangerous for you kids to handle anyways.” Gintoki states matter of factly, however the last job he’d taken was delivering booze to a coworker party that needed more. Not that that was dangerous, he just couldn’t risk the kids seeing something they’re not supposed to. Therefore he had to keep them thinking he was a sensitive and lazy bastard with a terrible sleep schedule, although that might not be too far from the mark. 

Just then, the door slides open and Kagura returns with the dog in tow. “Ah, Gin-chan’s awake!”

“Yeah, yeah. Put it on ya damn calendar.” He flips through the channels, his angel should be on giving the evening news soon… Meanwhile, Shinpachi calls out something about giving him a minute for the dinner to be done and Gintoki’s already making plans about how he’s going to get out of this one. Maybe he should just leave for the job early, but then the damn sun’s still setting. And he’d miss Ketsuno Ana. He sighs, pillow being thrown over his head once more. What an inconvenience. 

Deciding that ultimately just leaving would be his best course of action, Gintoki gets up and loiters into his room, trying not to make it too obvious his intentions. He puts on his black pants and shirt, buckling his belt and, shit, of course, his yukata would be outside. Thankfully, Kagura is in the kitchen with Shinpachi, probably already stuffing her face with what he’s not even done cooking, so he slips on his boots and grabs his bouken steathfully. He’s halfway out the door when he calls out he’s leaving, and doesn’t give Shinpachi a moment to complain because he’s already started down the steps, yukata snatched off of the clothesline. 

The sun is setting, and it’s not like he’s going to burst out in flames when his skin gets a little UV rays on it, it’s just irritating as hell. This time is no different, and he swoops into Otose’s bar before the kids can realize he’s down there. He feels bad, he really does, but there’s nothing he can do about it. 

“Look here, back from the dead at last.” Otose smirks, already pouring him a glass of… something. He grins back at her, acknowledging the joke. It’s between them, a small little thing, but one Gintoki treasures nonetheless. His relationship with Otose is something irreplaceable, a price so high it can’t be put into currency. He loves this woman, she’s the mother he never had; and he intends on keeping her last years as happy as he can. 

“Baba, always so mean.” He whispers, no one needed to catch onto anything they had no business being in. He takes a swig of the drink, still not sure about what it actually was. It didn’t smell or taste like anything he’d ever had before, foreign origins probably, but it was stronger than half the things he’d had at this bar previously so he wasn’t complaining. 

“Where’s the rent, you no good natural perm?”

“I thought what I was supposed to be doing tonight was going to be covering this month.”

“Where’s the past three months, then?” She glares, that too a joke, well… to an extent. 

“You elderly are always focusing too much on the past, let’s live in the present, ne?” He claps twice, the stupid look on his face wiped off when she swings the bottle at his head and he falls out of his chair dodging. 

“Who’s elderly? You got more gray hair than I do!” She spats, going back to mixing a customers next drink as Gintoki picks himself up off the floor. 

“It’s silver! _Sil~ver!_ There’s a difference!” 

“I see no difference!”

“Probably your old eyes failing you, old bag!” This time she’s actually successful hitting him. 

“Hmmf.” She looks outside, checking the sun’s position. It’s often that Gintoki sneaks in here to get away from something upstairs, and although he doesn’t say anything about it, she knows it’s hard to keep the act up. That’s why he comes down so often, to be with someone who understands, if even a little bit. “Alright, Gintoki... Oi.” His head darts up from the counter, and there’s this lazy, dead look in his eyes. Fits him perfectly, she thinks, but decides against saying; instead sliding a paper to him with names written on it.

“What’s this?” He looks down at it, the two people unfamiliar. 

“Men who have been harassing some women around here recently. I think one of ‘em has come into the bar once, but we get loud reckless ones in here all the time, you know how it goes. Anyways, I don’t know for sure is what I’m saying. Your missing girls case, it might be them. I’d check up on it, see what you can find.” She sips from her own drink, sake, and eyes the perm as he takes in the information. 

“How do you want them dealt with?”

“Since when have you asked that?” She chuckles, the paper slid closer to him. “It’s not my decision, is it?” He knows what she implies, and he’d shrug her off if he wasn’t so fucking hungry. He looks out the window, the sun fully gone from the sky, and then back to the paper, which he folds and stuffs into his shirt. There’s a silence between them even in the rowdiness of the bar and he keeps it that way, getting up and giving her a backward wave while throwing his yukata over his shoulder. 

The sliding door shuts behind him, and it’s too loud on the street to hear if the kids were settled in eating dinner or not. The night air was inviting, much unlike the sunlight, and almost as if it was awakened by the night air, the beast inside of him starts whining. It’d been a couple days, his tolerance seemingly decreasing over the years. He used to be able to last four days before he had to drink again, but that was after the war, maybe he was actually close to dying and he didn’t know. Hell, he hardly knows now. That was beside the point, however, the point being that it was day two and goddammit he was _starving._

The names Otose had given him, Kawahara Yushiro and Miyake Kazuo. He wasn’t sure he was going to be able to find them tonight, and if he couldn’t he was going to be in trouble. He hated having to go to innocents to supply his needs, he didn’t ask for this, why should they be the ones to deal with it? Though you could say the same thing about cows, but then to justify that would be saying that humans were on a higher level in the food chain, and he really didn’t want to think about himself as higher in the food chain than his friends and family, that was just weird. 

His feet carried him to the shady alleyways of Kabukicho, where all the criminals and Joui fractions gather to talk about their Evil Plans™. He was in search of a certain wig, however it seemed like the idiot moved his damn hideout again without telling him because when he knocked the most recent passcode into the door, no one answered and he couldn’t feel anyone moving around inside. 

Giving up, he turned away to leave, and it wasn’t five steps away from the door when the eyes of someone else watching him started to burn into his back.

\- - - 

To say that Hijikata was having a bad day would be a colossal understatement. He was currently seething at the newest recruits, not that he _should_ be able to even call them that anymore given that they’d been doing patrols and arresting people now for, what?― two months? They should be able to handle a single fucking vampire when the thing comes along, but even that was now a burning question for the two idiots. 

Now, they had a vampire on the loose, one with an undoubtedly big mouth. They never fail to get one of those when they escape an attack by Shinsengumi officers, going around and telling all the kindred and criminals they know. 

He hated it. Absolutely fucking hated it. 

However the night was still young, he’d only been awake for four hours, there was still plenty of time to track down and kill the leech. He reached into his pocket, grabbing the half-full package of Mayoboro cigarettes, and fumbling to light one up with the restlessness of his fingers. He knew he had a smoking problem, one of his men had once called him a chimney and Hijikata would’ve hit him if he didn’t think there was an ounce of credit in that. Anyways, he was at wit’s end and the day, for him at least, had just begun. To make things worse, nicotine wasn’t helping to take the edge off either, which in turn pissed him off more. He needed a drink, bad. 

Kondo was just about to head into his room for the night when he caught Hijikata in the hallway, texting something furiously on his phone. “Oi! Toshi!” 

Hijikata turns around after he finishes whatever he was typing, and flips his phone closed in a way that can only be described as violent before shoving it into his pocket. “What?”

“I know what happened earlier has you riled up―”

“No, you’ve got no fucking idea.” The tone is harsh and he really doesn’t mean it to be, it’s just Kondo _doesn’t,_ and truthfully, it’s better if it stays that way. Something flashes in Kondo’s eyes and Hijikata has to wipe his face with his hands to calm down enough to not snap. “I’m sorry… I didn’t-”

“I know, you’re right. Anyways, what I was going to tell you is not to let it get to you so much. They can sense your anger from a mile away, Toshi. The group as a whole won’t get anywhere if every vampire in Edo knows we’re coming, you see what I’m saying?” Hijikata knows he’s right, he knows, but he just can’t help it sometimes. “And also, you can’t do everything by yourself. I know your trust in the men is there, they are human, and all of us will make mistakes, you can’t expect them to do a perfect job every time.”

“But my job as a vice-commander i-”

“Is to discipline, I get it, but they’re grown men.”

“They act like children.” 

“Some, but weren’t you the same way back in the day? Give them a chance, Toshi.” Kondo’s voice is calm and quiet, everything Hijikata is not right now. Once more, he knows that Kondo is right, and he makes his best attempt to calm his nerves. 

“Thank you, Kondo-san. I’ll try.” 

“No problem, Toshi. But you’ve been working yourself too hard recently, come out for a drink with me tomorrow if this mess is all sorted up by then, okay?” 

For the first time in forever, Hijikata accepts, and Kondo leaves him with a stern squeeze on the shoulder. There’s so much to do, he doesn’t know how he’s going to get it all done and track down and kill a vampire all in the same night. Almost as if it was on cue, his phone starts ringing, he flips it open and before he was able to get a word in, Yamazaki is already yammering on about a someone who he suspects to be the run away from earlier. 

He grabbed his men and started heading down to the area where Yamazaki had seen the supposed vampire. Yes, tonight was going to be a long one.

\- - -

If it were possible, Gintoki’s eyes would be rolled into the back of his head. That’s how pissed off he was. When he’d tried to walk away from the alleyway the eyes had just followed him, meaning they were either on the rooftops, or they were on the ground. Now normally he’d be able to pick up on a detail like that, but the person was either just out of range or he had another vampire following him. What a bother. All he could think to do was to get lost in the crowd of people on the main streets to hopefully in turn, lose the thing following him. He’s used to disappearing, this should be easy. Right? _Right?_

Since the only idiot he could fall back on didn’t answer his door, he was at a loss of what to do for his… needs. If he could slip away from whatever this was, he could start focusing on fulfilling that wish, but right now he had bigger things to worry about. One of which, the roadblock currently blocking the rest of the main street, causing a pile up of people who were unhappy they couldn’t get to the business they needed to. He cursed under his breath, it was painfully obvious who his pursuer was. 

He turned, darting through a side alley, deciding that if it was him who they were targeting that it’d be better to simply play the game rather than get picked off in a crowd. The alley was small and dingy, one better used for trash and drunken flings than fighting, but he couldn’t complain, not when he had multiple people closing in on him. He kept walking however, if he was to stop they would have a good amount of evidence, enough to ask some questions Gintoki wasn’t sure he was going to be able to answer without a suspicious amount of sarcasm. 

The ending of the alley had a small opening that led out to the street parallel to the one he was on before, which he was thankful for. The more witnesses the Shinsengumi had, the less likely they were to attack and even better, the quieter their loud mouths would be. 

God damn Katsura, this ordeal was probably the whole reason why he moved buildings in the first place. Gintoki was good about keeping the dogs off of his tail, at least better than Katsura. Now that he thinks about it, he probably should’ve called first, but then again he wants to blame the wig headed idiot a little bit more before he pins any blame on himself. Anyways, the point was that he was now dealing with Katsura’s mess, which he would be sure to use to get at least two nights of free drinks out of. That's _if_ he wasn’t arrested, or killed.

“Good afternoon sir, would you mind if we asked you a few questions?” A deep voice asks the moment he exits the alley. Damn Shinsengumi noses too sharp for their own good. 

“Pertaining to? I’m a busy man, vice-commander-san.” Gintoki can get away with being snappy with the vice-commander, the majority of the populous was. It was a well known fact in the Shinsengumi’s territory that the vice-commander was a bit of a prick, so everyone treated him as such.

“The public’s safety. And you can call me Hijikata if that makes this ordeal any easier for you.” There’s a fire in the undertone of Hijikata’s voice, one Gintoki can recognize only because he knows what it’s like to kill in hatred. In Gintoki’s defense, they don’t really _know_ for a fact that Gintoki is a vampire, he is of course, but they could be a _little_ nicer. Well, he hopes they don’t know at least. Two more men come up behind him, not too close, but close enough to intimidate anyone who wasn’t expecting them. Then not a moment later two young men run up to his left, a confused look on their faces as one of them yell-whispers _“fukucho!”_

Hijikata gives them a half glance, not enough for them to incite conversation, and immediately directs his attention back to Gintoki. There's a glare before he speaks and Gintoki rebukes it with his signature dead look, seemingly pissing the vice-commander off more. “What's the wooden sword for?”

“I’m sure you know, vice-commander-san, living in Kabukicho isn’t always a walk in the park.” 

Hijikata’s watching him like a hawk, every move, every twinge of muscle. He knows that the officer is a master of reading people, but Gintoki is a book that’s closed and locked on the side, and few have opened his pages. “Mmm, that’s definitely true.” There’s a moment where Hijikata pauses, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it with a stupid mayonnaise bottle shaped lighter. If it were any other situation Gintoki would have laughed. “What are you doing out so late?”

“Depends. Work, for one.”

“What do ya’ do?”

“Anything. Run a freelance business. I’ll find your cat, beat up your stalker, fuck you into the mattress. Whatever you want, really.” There’s an obvious red tint that falls over the vice-commander’s face and the men around them nervously glance at each other, dead silent. Hijikata’s eyebrows are raised and the cigarette is utterly crushed under his teeth. The same man from before tries, once more, to get Hijikata’s attention and it, once more, fails.

“Did... you just openly admit to prostitution in front of an officer?” 

“It’s legal, last time I checked. I watch the news daily for Ketsuno Ana, I don’t think I would miss a detail like that. Though people usually don’t call for that type of stuf―” Hijikata is livid, and Gintoki’s scarfing this up like candy. He’s got a shit-eating grin on his face, and he’s sure that the vice-commander hasn’t met anyone who could stand up to him in a long time. This experience has turned out rather pleasant, if he does say so himself. 

Hijikata grabs him by the shirt with one hand, his back now to the wall that was previously to his left. The yukata that he still hadn’t had a chance to put on yet falling off of his shoulder and into a puddle on the ground. Gintoki watches it drop, the grin on his face falling with it. _Ah, now he’ll have to wash it again._ “I don’t give a single fuck. I’ll make myself real clear here bastard, what were you doing in that alleyway?” 

“Work.”

“So it was work when you beat up two of my officers earlier? Did you think you could escape and live to see the next day?” Hijikata tightens the grip on Gintoki’s shirt, any fake kindness in his voice had been replaced by pure enmity. Not that Gintoki cares, but the lit cigarette is getting a little too close for comfort. He has no idea what the other is going on about, but if he gets burned and that thing heals before their eyes, then he’s going to be in trouble. Another officer tries to get Hijikata attention, and again, it fails. The one-track mind of this one was strong. A wonder how he got to be vice-commander.

“I have zero clue what you’re talking about.” Gintoki says blandly, because truthfully, he doesn’t. Hijikata glares again and this time when the officer actually tugs on his shirt he listens. 

“Fukucho! He’s not the one from earlier! The one that beat us up had long, black hair… and a weird duck cosplayer as a friend.” Gintoki mentally and emotionally facepalms, and the grip on his shirt loosens slightly. 

“‘E’s not? Whaddya mean he’s not?” Gintoki has to dodge the cigarette to keep it from burning his nose when Hijikata turns his head to face his subordinates, which makes him smack his head against the brick wall behind him. He looks up to the moon, questioning all the choices he made that lead up to this moment. Why couldn’t he have just been like, a werewolf or something? Or a mermaid? Wait, no, he can’t swim, nevermind that idea. A werewolf was fine, he could live with that, yeah. 

“I only saw him knock on the door the other one came out of, fukucho… T-that’s why I called you.” One of the ones that had come up behind him says, and Gintoki is slowly starting to piece this shit show of a situation together. This was definitely worth three nights of drinks, he decides. 

“So you mean to say, he’s not the one we’re looking for? Why didn’t you tell me earlier?! I nearly gave away top secret information to a god damn civilian!” 

“No, fukucho... I’ve _been_ trying to tell you that-” The younger subordinate says, and Gintoki can’t help but laugh. “W-we still don’t know why he was knocking at the door, though…” 

Hijikata seems satisfied with that and once more, all the attention is on him. “Listen, the guy on the phone wanted me to buy their alcohol for them earlier, but I was busy when they called and couldn’t do it till a little while ago. So, I was going to drop by their place and get money before going to the store.” There’s a twitch in Hijikata’s eyebrow, and Gintoki knows it’s because the vice-commander has realized his time is being wasted. 

“What’s your name?”

“Gintoki.” Hijikata glares again and Gintoki knows he’s not going to be let go without both his first and his last name. “Sakata Gintoki.” Thankfully, with that, his shirt is turned loose and Gintoki rubs out the wrinkles, picking up his wet and muddied yukata off of the ground. 

“Sorry for the inconvenience, Sakata-san.” Ohoho... now this was a real treat. 

“Mhm, spare a light then?” There’s a smirk on his face and he knows he’s pushing all the right buttons. He must admit though, the vice-commander was just too fun to not mess with. There’s a loud, irritated sigh as the other reaches into his pocket to pull out his cigarettes, and Gintoki has no remorse in taking the last one. A chain smoker like Hijikata is sure to have a pack or two somewhere, not to mention his fixed income. Once again, that stupid little mayo lighter is taken out and Hijikata lights Gintoki’s cigarette, which honestly, is the nicest thing he’s ever seen the man do. Yeah, there’s the whole _“saving lives”_ deal but, when the man has a personality that makes you want to have a sword impale you anyways, what’s the point?

“Fukucho, Kondo-san wants you to go meet him by the cabaret club…? He says you’d know which one it is...” One of the younger guys say, and Hijikata ruffles his hair with his hand. Of course, that stupid little v-shape still splitting his forehead perfectly. 

“I thought that bastard was going to sleep?” The vice-commander says as a question, but it’s more of a statement by the end of the sentence. Gintoki doesn’t know why he’s still here, there was no reason to be; however he had taken to playing a game of blowing smoke from his cigarette closer and closer to Hijikata’s face, seeing if he could hit the bastard, _just once-!_

The officer gives a decisive wave of his hand, signaling to his men it was time to leave. Ah, what a shame. A big _“try again next time!!!”_ sign flashes in his head and he mentally spits at it. What a joke. One of the older men with longer black hair looks at him, then Hijikata, then him again, bowing an apology before jogging back to the head dog. He hears something as the men walk away about the commander being stuck in a trash can filled with hardening cement? He can’t say he’s surprised. 

Now then, onto his original business. The lead Otose had given him would have to wait until he could talk to that dumb wig about it, preferably with a substantial amount of alcohol to follow it. He needed something to drink, desperately. Maybe a hookup? He could get that rather easy if he went to the right bar. He’d rather that than some man off the street, passed out in an alley that smells of Sadaharu’s shit and vomit. 

Sighing, he pushes himself off the wall with his foot and starts along to the place, his kimono dripping puddle water onto the back of his pants leg as he walked. 

\- - - 

Hijikata’s about had it for tonight. Not only had that Gintoki guy been a prick, but he’d also been a dead end to a problem, and currently he was trying to chisel Kondo out of a trash can. 

“But you should’ve seen her, Toshi! When I tried to go to sleep my thoughts were just invaded of that beautiful face~” Kondo’s practically got heart eyes and he really can’t understand why. The cabaret girl he was so infatuated with was nothing short of a walking nightmare. Not that he’d admit it to anyone, but even he was a little scared of her. The spear was just… too big.

“And then she told me to go fuck myself!”

“Really? Quite the love story.” 

There’s one final crack and Kondo breaks free, fully naked from the waist down. There’s a woman somewhere behind him that gasps and he can hear her run away, he doesn’t blame her. He reaches into his pocket for a cigarette while the other men scurry to cover up their leader from the outside world. Oh, right. That permy haired bastard took the last one. 

Immediately five times more pissed off than seconds prior, he throws a towel one of the men had run and bought at Kondo’s genitals, barking out orders for them to escort their commander back to the barracks. Turning on his heel, he marches till he finds the nearest vending machine, which was, of course, out of Mayoboro cigarettes. He picks some equally cheap kind and nearly punches the button in after it swallows up his hundred yen. What a fucking joke. 

When he’d finally made it to the area he was supposed to patrol almost an hour and a half ago, it’s well past twelve and he can’t even bother to text Yamazaki and ask how Kondo was doing. He was sure everything was fine, he _hoped_ everything was fine, but he’s really got more important things to be doing with his time at the moment. Much like yelling at drunk couples to stop hooking up in the dark corners of alleys. Although he’d originally wanted to strictly track down and execute vampires, he can’t say he doesn’t mind the... glamours of police work from time to time. 

Speaking of vampires, aside from the incident earlier, there hadn't been much activity in the Shinsengumi’s half of Edo lately. Whether that was a good thing or a bad thing he didn’t know, the bloodsuckers never did make their job easy enough to find out. Just when they’d start to think they’d scared the leeches off, another four people would wind up drained dry and dumped in the same dumpster. No, it never was easy. 

There was a certain cycle to these things, a pattern if you will. Whenever it got quiet, that was the waiting game. Maybe plans were being made in the shadows, maybe ten more people would get turned, maybe there would be a meeting of their elders in the forests outside of the city, or in the sewers beneath it. The waiting period was the quietest, calmest, the men would get a little hope and then comes the outbreak. 

Something would occur that Hijikata has to rush to cover up before hysteria breaks out, aka, the worst stage. Which, many would speculate that with the Amanto, such a thing would not be a problem; however, the Amanto species that roamed the streets of Edo did not have to survive off of the blood of humans. Therefore the amanto were only scary in presence, not existence. The final stage always was the cleanup. Cleanup in whatever way, shape, or form. Every year he tells himself he’d seen it all and every year he’d be proven wrong. God, he really needed that drink. 

It’s three in the morning before Hijikata gets back to the barracks, another quiet night gone by. Taking his cigarettes and lighter out before throwing his jacket into the dirty clothes hamper, Hijikata sits down in front of his desk, lighting up yet another cigarette and getting started on reports that would last him well into the daylight hours. 

\- - -

It was almost too easy sometimes, to capture men and women into this web of seduction, wrap them up with a nice little crimson bow on their neck. He hated everything about this life, from the stupid shit like constantly keeping the blinds shut tight, the throwing up of food after he ate it, the having to remember to breathe. Those things were annoying, but not damn near annoying as the beast. 

This thing inside of him, the urge need to take, constantly take, take, _take._

The urge to kill, to feel the veins of his prey run dry because they had nothing left to give him.

It was a predatory instinct, one built on someone else’s suffering for his own couple days of satisfaction. It was ingrained into him from the moment he was turned and it hadn’t left in fifteen years, not like it would ever. It was who he was, forever drawn to the warm flesh of those living, the heartbeat of a human. No, it would never change. 

It was a woman this time, and he’d fattened her up with lies before leading her out of the bar, genuinely laughing most of the way to the hotel at stories of her son, who he’d learned she’d raised alone. He feels bad, and every time it’s like he’s going to throw up what he doesn’t have in his stomach to begin with. But he’d learned to simply bear with it, he couldn’t have one of his kids being the victim instead. So he slips his hand under the back of her kimono’s belt, grabbing her gently by the hip, whispering more sinful promises into the nape of her neck as his hands work their way up her figure, guiding her further into the darker part of the tiny alley. 

She’s a beautiful woman, and the way her skin dances under his fingers is nothing short of erotic. She’s ready to be taken, but not how the promises he fed her told her she would be; she’ll wake up hours later, confused and scared. He knows this, so he stalls a while longer; the more lost she was, the better. She’s shorter, so he picks her up, her legs wrapping loosely around his waist, arms around his neck, trusting. There’s a second in between the bliss that he asks if she’s ever screamed before, and she replies with a shake of her head, followed by something about how she’d never been with the right man. Gintoki’s too gone to hear it properly though, because the way the beast is clawing at him is too distracting, too demanding, he’s so _hungry…_ so he covers her mouth, and bites.


	2. We're All the Same When We're Drunk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hijikata has a lot on his hands and there's some entirely self-indulgent friendship time before we get too deep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i got distracted by ffxv. thats why this is so late. but low and behold: sat down last night, listened to the vampyr soundtrack eight times, and wrote this bad boy in one sitting.  
> i hope it's decent because we going in no betaaa
> 
> ketsuno ana: weather reporter.  
> ketsu no ana: asshole.

Hijikata wakes up choking, the burning scent of smoke and ash thickening the air, suffocating him more with every breath he struggled to take. His whole body ached, the pressure on his chest much like someone was pushing down on him, like he was going to mold into the ground beneath him. He rolls over heaving, coughing, crying; the walls of fire around him closing in quickly, spreading across the tatami mat like it was mere paper. He and his futon are next, but the pressure forcing down on him is too crushing, too paralyzing. 

His vision is blurring in and out and the smoke caught under his eyelids scrapes his eyes like sandpaper with each blink. Every fiber of his being is both aflame and sluggish, he feels like he’s floating on clouds his head is so dizzy. One by one, he picks his limbs up and hauls his weight onto his feet. A wall crumbles to the ground beside him, the one leading into what looks like the living room, and he can vaguely make out four figures standing in the center of the room. Hijikata fumbles his way around the pieces of burning fusuma, and catches up to the shadows.

Three people stand surrounding one on the ground, looming over the person holding his hands up in surrenderance. This is all so familiar, but he’s not quite sure where he is yet― the moments he was experiencing dancing on the tip of his tongue like some bad déjà vu. He staggers his way over to the pleading man and his assailants while pieces of the ceiling’s wood fall off and sear his skin. 

“Oi _-!_ You three! W-what are you doing to that man?” No one spares him even a lift of their head, either the people don’t see him or they’re paying no mind; Hijikata puts his hand on the shoulder of the closest man, and it passes right through the black mass. They’re laughing, mocking him or the person on the floor, he can’t tell anymore, everything is too cloudy, his head is spinning, he can feel himself being consumed by the heat’s wraith more by each passing second. He stumbles back several steps, falling onto his ass, while the men all still laugh. He can’t hear their voices though, only the popping and crackling sounds of the building being demolished by the flames. Hijikata attempts to rub the soot from his vision, which only makes them burn more, and by the time he opens his eyes again the man in the middle has a knife raised in the air, ready to strike. 

The one motion hits Hijikata like a truck, and he’s now vividly all too aware of where he is. He flings his body weight forward, scrambling on all fours to reach the man on the floor, to pull him away to safety; but the ground seemed to move him back like a conveyor belt with every panicked crawl. He’s too far, all he can do is watch in agony as Tamegoro screams, the blade cutting across his face. 

The flames erupt around the scene and all Hijikata can see is red. He stumbles to his feet, sprinting over to the men and slicing them across their own faces with a knife he doesn’t recall picking up. The men drop to the ground like flies, tossing and turning at his feet, wailing like children throwing a tantrum. Blood drips onto the tatami mat from the tip of his blade while his chest heaves and begs for air. Footsteps scramble in behind him, he turns his head, looking over his shoulder, eyes bloodshot and hungry like a deranged animal. The people who he now recognized to be his siblings visibly flinched, whispering shaky, fearful accusations among themselves, the flames dancing around them like he was in the devil’s ballroom. 

_“Hijikata! What have you done?!"_ One shouts.

 _“Monster!”_ Yells another. 

_“Hijikata!”_

_“Get lost, demon!”_

_“Hijikata! Hijikata!_ Hijikata!”

He eyes fly open, and his body darts forward, blanket pooling at his waist. He’s sweating like a pig, his heart is racing and he’s gasping for air. _It was just a dream. Only a dream._

“Fukucho? Are you all right? Do you need me to go and get you some water?” He turns his head, and Yamazaki is kneeled down beside his futon, a concerned expression plastered all over his face. Hijikata runs a hand through his hair, steadying his breathing before his voice acknowledges the fact that he was vulnerable before one of his subordinates. Though he’d not admit it to anyone but himself, he’s relieved it’s Yamazaki. Maybe it was because the man was five years older than him, or maybe it was because of their unique relationship in the Shinsengumi; either way he didn’t know and he didn’t want to think that much into it, he was just glad it wasn’t a new recruit or Sougo. That would’ve been… well, demeaning to say the least.

“No,” Hijikata nearly chokes up. “I’m alright, but thank you. I’m more interested in why you’ve woken me up before my alarm.” 

Yamazaki scratches the back of his head, averting his eyes from Hijikata’s. “Well sir, you weren’t answering your phone, and the commander and Sougo-san are already heading towards the scene so I thought I would-” 

“Get on with it! What scene?!”

“There’s been another murder, sir.”

It isn’t but thirty minutes later Hijikata steps out of the car and through the police tape.  
Subordinates are scrambling around, going in and out of the alley while some curious civilians are watching the commotion play out, trying to figure out what was going on, whispering amongst themselves. Hijikata lights up a cigarette, finally smoking his correct brand, and proceeds towards where the body was found. When he turns the corner, Sougo, Kondo, and Harada are all talking in a circle while some other members work on photographing and sketching the scene. 

He walks up to the circle, but not before getting a good look at what had happened. There’s lacerations all around the body, several stabs in the stomach and chest, one slice on the thigh, and a cut down the side of the victims neck― odd. The thigh wound was most likely a cut to inhibit movement, that was not out of the ordinary. The stabs were the finishing blow. The neck wound, it’s vertical slice was not one of an attempt to inhibit movement or kill the victim, because then it would be a horizontal slit of the throat. This however, placed directly under the ear of the man, seemed most likely to be an attempt to conceal the fact that this was a murder by a vampire’s doing. 

Hijikata stands up, turning towards the group. “Glad you’re finally here, Hijikata-kun. What? Were you trying to skip out on work to get a little extra z’s in? How despicable…” Sougo says, signature sadistic grin spreading across his no-good face. 

Hijikata rolls his eyes. “Like I don’t have to run after you every day to find where you’ve gone off to nap, bastard.”

“Knock it off you two. We need to figure out what we’re dealing with here.” Kondo says, crossing his arms. 

“It’s pretty clear, I believe.” 

“What do you mean by that, Toshi?” Kondo asks and Hijikata proceeds to give his deliberations on the victims wounds. “Ah, that would make sense. The wounds do not appear to go entirely through the body, so we know this was not done by a sword, but a knife of some sort. Besides, if it was a sword there’s at least ten stabbings in the torso alone, someone wielding a katana would not need to ensure their victim was killed by stabbing them that many times.” 

“This was probably the work of someone moving quickly, taking extra precaution in not getting seen. They wanted to kill their target and quickly; and if it was in fact a vampire it would make all the more sense that they would cover up their bite marks by putting a shallow cut down the side of the neck.” Harada inputs, and Hijikata nods in agreeance. 

“You’re right, the wound isn’t deep enough to be put off as an attempt to stab the victim’s neck.”

Sougo yawns, “How many of these murders have happened recently?”  
“Three in this area over the past month, but the Mimawarigumi reported that they’ve had two killings in one of their districts as well. There might be ties between the two so, Harada, we need to make sure we have someone looking into that as soon as possible. Also, has anyone started on figuring out who he is yet? Any missing person reports?” 

“Yes, sir! I’ll go put someone on it right away, sir. And I’m not sure, but I will go and fix it if it’s not being done.” Harada salutes, and jogs out of the alley.

“Make sure we have someone chalking this and marking evidence with numbers the very second sketch is over with, you hear? I want to get the evidence out of here and in the lab so we can have this place cleaned up by tonight.” The man taking pictures nods, and then Hijikata head outs of the alley as well. What a headache. Murders were never fun for anyone, and this time it was his turn to go and meet with the family to tell them about their loss. He dreaded that, more than reports and more than figuring out the case, it was disgracing to have to tell someone that the Shinsengumi had failed in protecting their loved one. And besides, he knew all too well what it was like having someone they loved slaughtered by a vampire; though, he could never tell them that detail. 

Hijikata puts out his cigarette, going over to the patrol car and pulling out a blank sheet of on-scene report papers and a clipboard. Slumping down into the front seat, the sun slowly rising annoyingly in the corner of his eye, he prepares himself for what he knows is going to be a long, tiring day.

-

It’s not like Gintoki needed sleep. In reality, he could have a normal schedule, waking up when the sun does and going to bed or leaving the house when it goes down. He could have that, but to be awake during the day would mean that the kids could force him out on jobs, and that was never pleasant, unless it was overcast or raining. But if it was raining, then the kids were the ones that didn’t want to go out. It was a hard life, really. That’s why it was a surprise when he found himself getting up at… he rolls over, checking the time― eight in the morning. 

The last time he’d ate was the night before last, he wasn’t hungry, nor were the kids making noise, he was just… awake. Planting his face down into the pillow, he listened to the birds begin to fly around outside, Shinpachi brew tea in the kitchen, and Kagura gently snore. The feeling that today wasn’t going to go how he would like it to (aka with him spending his entire day in front of the TV with Kagura) buzzed annoyingly in the back of his mind like a mosquito. Shinpachi would make them go out today, he knew because they were running tremendously low on the money they’d made from their past few jobs. Sighing, he lifted himself up off his futon and shuffled his way out of his room and onto the couch. At least he could see his angel do the morning news, that was something that he rarely indulged in.

He turns on the TV, and it clicks and buzzes to life, already on his desired channel. Ketsuno Ana wasn’t on yet, instead it was the news anchors talking about some recent murders in the area. Somewhere in the back of his head he wonders if it has any connection to do with the two men Otose gave him, but he dismisses it for later. 

Shinpachi walks into the living room with two cups of green tea, “Kagura-chan, I made some tea fo- G-G-GIN-CHAN?! Since when?! Why?! Are you alright? Did you hit your head on something? Why are you awake so early? It’s just after eight―” There’s a bit of tea spilled on the floor in the wake of Shinpachi’s confusion and surprise, and Gintoki just stares at it for a second before turning his attention back to the TV. 

“Just am.” He says, nonchalantly sticking a finger in his ear and picking out ear wax, flinging it towards Shinpachi with a flick of his pinky. 

“T-this is… I’m…” Shinpachi stoically walks around to the other couch, sitting down with his back straight, his glasses gleaming where his eyes couldn’t be seen, he fixes them, then bows. “Nice to meet you, sir. I’m Shimura Shinpachi-”

 _“Oi-!_ I’m still the same person, dumbass!” Gintoki yells, hitting his fist on the table. 

Kagura’s closet door flies open and she’s yelling too. “What’s all this ruckus about?!” She points a finger in the direction of the two. “A girl needs her beauty sleep, ya know?!” 

Shinpachi turns, halfway facing her, a imperturbered look still on his face. He fixes his glasses once more. “Gin-san is awake before five in the afternoon.” 

Kagura gasps, suddenly all too intrigued by the conversation that her lack of sleep stopped mattering. “What time is it?!”

“Eight… thirteen…. A.M.”

She gasps again, louder. He really shouldn’t have gotten out of bed. Not that any of that matters to him now, because Ketsuno Ana is coming on next. If that whole vampire myth thing about soulmates was real then Ketsuno Ana had to be his, it was certain. They really would make a beautiful couple. 

Shinpachi and Kagura start to yell about something, and he doesn’t really care, he’s not paying attention. Well, he doesn’t care until the commercials for toothpaste go off and he’s greeted by his angel, then he cares a little too much. 

_“Shut up!”_

“You shut up!” Kagura yells back, jumping over the back of the couch that Shinpachi’s sitting on, her bed hair going in all directions possible. 

“Ketsuno Ana is on! _You_ shut up!” He spats, throwing a pillow at her. 

She jumps across the table and onto Gintoki’s back, pushing down on his head as she yanks his right arm back, smushing his face into the couch. “I will rip you a new ketsu no ana if you keep talking to a lady like that, you madao!” 

Gintoki shrieks into the cushion, rolling over from his stomach onto his back, flinging Kagura off him and onto the floor in between the table and the couch. “Fine, demon girl! I swear... and you kids wonder why I sleep all day!” 

“Good!” She spats, then flops over on the other couch, flicking boogers at him when she thinks he’s not paying attention. He flicks some back. It ends badly. Kagura gets the first shower.

By the time Ketsuno Ana’s segment is almost over, and right before he’s about to find out what the Libra horoscope is for today, Kagura makes a huge show of dropping all of the containers they keep in the shower onto the floor, all at once. It makes such a ruckus the only thing he can hear is Otose yelling at them from below to shut up. He groans. 

The day progresses, he’s eventually is forced out onto a job but he spends most of his time in the shade painting a house, so it wasn’t all too bad. Kagura and Shinpachi were the ones who went off doing other jobs that required more sunlight, all in all, he was considerably lucky that they didn’t want to spend their time painting. 

By the time he’s done, the house’s outer walls are a nice shade of tan accented by the sliding door’s dark wood and honestly, he’s pretty proud of it. The house looks a lot fresher and the generous older couple living there pay him a bit extra for doing such a good job in the amount of time that he did. The bright side about that being Shinpachi couldn’t bitch at him for a while. 

He assumes the kids are still out because when he gets back home, the door is locked and it’s quiet inside. The only movement he could hear was Otose preparing glasses for tonight’s business. He lets himself into the apartment, kicking off his boots and unzipping his blue long sleeve coverall as he walked through the living room. Gintoki puts it into the washer alone, so the kid’s clothes won’t get paint on them, and starts the cycle.

He walks into the living room, scooping up the remote and flopping onto the couch like a fish. However, before he’s able to turn on the TV to end his day with glorious soap operas, the phone rings. Being as lazy as he is, he contemplates letting it ring, but eventually decides that's probably a bad idea. He rolls over and onto his feet, sauntering over to it and picking it up. 

“Yorozuya Gin-chan, how may we be of service-” 

“Gintoki! Come drinking with me tonight!” 

“You…” He sighs, rubbing his temples with his free hand. “Do you have any idea of how much trouble you put me through the other day?! I’ll go drinking with you but I’m _not_ paying.” 

Zura laughs, of course the bastard does. “I won’t be paying either, there’s a surprise waiting for you tonight so meet me on the same street that we drank on last week. It shouldn’t be hard finding me.” 

“What―” The other chuckles again, cutting him off. 

“We never got to talk either, so tonight is a good night to do it.” Katsura says, voice a little suspiciously smooth. “I’ll see you there.”

“Zur-” But it’s too late, because the phone is already hung up on the other side. Talking to Zura was always a pain, but it was multiplied several times whenever they were on a call. He sighs, hanging up the phone and then going to put on his yukata for tonight. One of the bright sides about being immortal is that you didn’t sweat, you had no need to, so unless you got thrown into a dumpster or had a ton of Kagura boogers on you, then you never really had to take a shower after work. Speaking of the kids, as if on cue he can hear Shinpachi, Kagura, and Sadaharu coming up the stairs and the rustle of bags with them. His best guess is that Shinpachi used some of the money they earned to buy food for tonight’s dinner, they really didn’t have anything at all, the cupboards were bone dry and so was the fridge. Not that that was unusual, of course.

The door slides open and Shinpachi greets Gintoki, going immediately into the kitchen to prepare dinner for them. Gintoki tells him that he’s going out, and to bring his meal to his sister. Kagura hops on the idea, always adamant about spending the night at the _“boss lady’s”_ house. He tells her not to forget her toothbrush and then says goodbye, heading out into the evening’s light. 

It was dark by the time he made it to the street, and Katsura was never wrong, the other knew that Gintoki would be able to sense him from a mile away. Gintoki starts down the street, and it’s only five minutes later he’s swooping into a shady bar where he’s greeted by two familiar faces. Katsura and Sakamoto were sitting in a private room, drinking and chatting about Sakamoto’s most recent business deals when Gintoki opens the door. _Of course, this is what Katsura meant by not paying for the drinks._

He sits down, Sakamoto downing the rest of his sake before saying anything to Gintoki. _“Wahh~!_ Good to see you, Kintoki! Ahahaha! It’s sure has been a while! Six months, maybe?” 

“Maybe, I wouldn’t know. You tend to lose track of time easily when you’re not counting your days anymore.” Gintoki chuckles, the energy Sakamoto carried was never short of enjoyable. Maybe sometimes annoying, but nonetheless enjoyable. He missed his old friend, and he’s glad that Sakamoto was able to make time to come and see them. 

“Ahahaha! I wish! You two are always so insufferable when it comes to that, though. How hard is it to just nibble a bit on me? Not that hard! And I taste good~” Sakamoto laughs again and there’s a silence that falls between the other two men. 

“First of all, it’s not done by simply _“nibbling”_ on you, if that were true then everyone that we bit would turn. It’s a painful and gruesome process, you don’t want what you think you want, Tatsuma. We’ve told you multiple times.” Katsura says while Gintoki quietly sips on his drink. 

Despite the obvious drop in energy, Sakamoto laughs once more. _“Zuuurrraaa!_ I’ve asked you how many times now? I wouldn’t be so stubborn if I wasn’t absolutely sure that I knew what I was getting into. The whole sunlight deal, mirrors, blood, I know! So help a friend and his business out, ne?” Sakamoto winks, twirling the sake in his glass around. 

“Haven’t you asked Mutsu?” Gintoki says, taking a swing of his drink. 

“I have!” He whines, head dropping. “She’s just as hard-headed as you two!” 

“That should tell you something then.” Katsura states blatantly and Gintoki completely agrees with him. He understands _why_ Sakamoto wants to be turned, but Sakamoto doesn’t know what the past fifteen years have been like, he wasn’t there to see his friends from the war be changed, thankfully. Sure, it would probably be easier for him not having to worry about people like the Shinsengumi and Mimawarigumi all the time, but he’s not about to let Sakamoto think that he has even a little bit of a convincing argument. Maybe one day Gintoki will change his mind, him, Katsura, or Mutsu― but until that day comes Sakamoto will age mortally by each passing second. 

“You guys are no fun.” He whines, taking another swig of his alcohol. “Anyways, let’s talk business while we’re all still sober enough to.” 

Gintoki nods in agreement, turning his attention over to Katsura. “Before that, you know what you got me into when you ditched your hideout without telling me, bastard?! I nearly got caught by that fucking Hijikata guy, of all people.” Okay, maybe almost caught was a bit of a stretch, but he wasn’t about to take back his words now that they were said.

Katsura chuckled. “But you didn’t. That’s why you should joi-” 

“Not what I’m getting at!”

“You should-”

“I _should_ get three nights worth of free alcohol.”

“Well, here’s one.”

“You’re not paying.”

Zura sighs, “Fine, but only because I didn’t tell you.”

“And the fact that it was your fault in the beginning, aside from the you not telling me part.” Zura just shrugs in reply, and Gintoki’s just surprised that he actually got what he wanted. Three free nights of drinking was quite the bit of alcohol. “Anyways, I wanted to ask you two about some men that have been harassing girls around Kabukicho recently. I think they might have something to do with the mass disappearance of women I’m trying to find. You have no idea how many families have come to me about their daughters, wifes, sisters... you name it.” 

“What are the names of the men?” Katsura asks, brushing his hair behind his ear. 

Gintoki pulls out the slip of paper from the inside of his yukata and tosses it on the table in front of Katsura. “Kawahara Yushiro and Miyake Kazuo. Otose gave me the lead.” 

Katsura seems to give the names a moment of thought before he speaks. “I know Yushiro. He worked under me for a while before leaving rather suddenly. Of course, to make sure he wasn’t a spy for the bakufu we had him put under surveillance, but this past week…” Katsura shakes his head slightly, pausing. “He’s gone off the grid. He typically stays around this big warehouse, I don’t know what it’s used for. The place has no specific signs and it’s not a business, at least not a normal one; but it’s well traveled through by the same people. My men couldn’t get inside, it might be another underground criminal organization but... I’m not quite sure.” 

Gintoki thinks over the information that Zura had just given him, glad he’d gotten some sort of a lead to go off of. “What about his history with women?”

“Mmm, he’s a party drinker that’s for sure, but I can’t give you a definitive answer because I don’t have any women working under me, so I never saw him interact with them.” Katsura takes a drink of his sake, “Though like I said, he did get rambunkshus when he drank a lot. But maybe that was because he was a lightweight. All in all, from my experience, he wasn’t a bad guy.” 

Gintoki turns to Sakamoto. “Anything from you?” 

“No, though my informates down here have kept me well aware of the recent kidnappings and murders. I think they’re connected, but…” He shrugs, “just a hunch.” 

“What have they told you?”

“Well, one of my men witnessed one of the murders. Said he was walking down the street at night, this drunk was in front of him on other side of the street, good bit away, and all of a sudden, the man is pulled into an alley as he passes by it. There was a scream, my informate ran to go check what had happened and the guy had gained thirteen stab wounds. He watched the man take his last breath.” Sakamoto pauses, thinking about his next words. “It was Kishimoto Miyazaki, the second victim in this area. Worked in a dry cleaning business. We really have no idea how these murders are all connected, but we’re working on it.”

“Do you think you could take me to this warehouse, Zura?” 

“It’s not Zura, it’s Katsura. And yes, I’m quite curious as to what Yushiro-san has gotten up to as well.”

Gintoki opened his mouth to say something when suddenly, a shiver runs through his entire body, and with just one quick glance, he can tell Zura felt it too. The two vampires froze, the energy that had entered the bar walked down further, and into the actual lounging area where it placed itself in the back corner and stayed there. Meanwhile, Gintoki tried to focus in on a voice but there was too many drunken yells and talking. He glances over to Sakamoto, who was already pulling out cash from his wallet. Gintoki and Katsura slip on their shoes and Sakamoto is not farther than a step behind them. He knows his two immortal friends can sense things that are way out of his own grasp, and it’s easy to tell when something is amiss. As quickly as they got up they were out the door, but not in a way that made it seem too suspicious. Gintoki leads to two back to his apartment, knowing it would be empty when he got there. Although he doesn’t feel entirely comfortable going straight back home after having felt something like that, he doesn’t sense it following them and neither does Katsura, or else he would have said something. 

By the time he and his friends are back at his apartment, he first swings by Otose’s bar to buy them a bottle of sake. Which, much to Otose’s surprise, he pays for with his own money. The three head up the steps, and the first words said between them since the bar come from Sakamoto. 

“What happened to you two?”

“It was another kindred, one many years older than us. It’s a sense we have, not necessarily how to tell if a vampire is older, but if it’s more powerful, in a way. However there’s few times that age and power don’t go hand in hand.” Katsura says, the three of them kicking off their shoes. 

“Whoever it is, they’re not from around here. I’m sure that won’t be the last time we see it, either.” Gintoki grumbles, going to the kitchen and grabbing the sake cups. “I’m too fucking sober for this.” 

“Agreed.” Said Sakamoto, already claiming one of the couches for himself.

Gintoki takes off his yukata and throws it over his desk, quickly the first one to grab the bottle to open it. He’s already buzzed, but be it a vampire thing or not, but ever since the bar his mood has dropped tremendously and he can tell Katsura is a little ticked too; so he pours their cups, well on his way to getting absolutely goddamn plastered.

A couple hours later when the bottle finally ran dry and their moods had all turned into a drunken slur, Sakamoto interrupts the quiet of the room. _“Soooo,_ do ya guys like, not know what ya look like now, or somethin’? Since yer mirrors don’t work no-” _Hiccup._ “-more...”

Gintoki’s draped over the couch, his head on Katsura’s lap, which, he doesn’t really remember getting into this position, it had just kind of… happened. Not that he’s bothered by it at all, he and Katsura had always been close, and there’s been more than a few times that they’d had too much alcohol or lost sight of themselves a little too far and ended up having sex. They didn’t like each other romantically, it was more of an attempt for them to stop thinking about everything so much and just forget, if only for a little while. It was unspoken of outside of the two, but he was sure Sakamoto probably had some sort of an idea about it. Sakamoto was like Katsura, too intuitive for his own good.

“N-ope.” Slurs Gintoki, and he’s just staring up at the ceiling. “Gotta always make sure I don’t-ta go in tha bathroom while one of my kids are brushin’ their teeth…” 

“We only remember what we look like in tha war, we ‘ot zero clue what we look like now.” Katsura chimes in, and Gintoki’s surprised he’s still awake with how his head was hanging back before. It’s not like he had a pulse or breathing levels to listen to check if he was still awake or not, especially because the bastard could sleep with his eyes open.

“Well, er… Kintoki… yer hair’s tha same color, same perminess, it’s just er, shorter ‘n less fluffy than tha war. Yer jawlines gotten more… chiseled. Sharper. Looks like it could cut someone...” Sakamoto says and Katsura nods, staring down at him. 

“Yeah… ‘e’s right. It used ta be more like…” Katsura’s hands go down and trace the line where his jaw supposedly was when he was in the war. He forgot how soft those fucking hands were, he’d bet on them being softer than most women’s. He didn’t know how he did it, constantly handling a sword, but Katsura was a man of many mysteries. “That. ‘T’s more up now.” 

Sakamoto chuckled, “‘N you Zura… You’re a lil’ rounder in the face, jus’ a teeny tiny bit. Your eyes are a lil’ darker, too… Ahah, aside from keepin’ ya hair down all tha time now, ya really changed tha least.” 

“Ya demeanor still tha same. You still cross ya arms every time yer tryin’ to make a point ta someone…” Says Gintoki, he’s known his friend long enough to definitively say that he hasn’t changed a bit since childhood. “‘Is a little funny, actually...”

“Ya know what…” Gintoki hops up from the couch a little too fast, and nearly vomits all over his floor, but he holds it in like the big boy he is; staggering over to his desk and pulling out a blank sheet of paper from the stash that Kagura used to draw and color on every now and then. He pulls a pencil from the cup on his desk and flops back over onto the couch, moving the glasses and wiping where Sakamoto had spilled sake off with his forearm. “Imma draw ya.” 

Katsura and Sakamoto both start to laugh. “What, bastards? Imma great-” _Hiccup._ “-artist!” 

Katsura motions for him to go ahead, still chuckling, and Gintoki turns towards the table. He draws Katsura’s hair first, because that’s his defining feature, then does his jaw, followed by his nose, eyes, eyebrows, and finally, the finishing touch… an Elizabeth sign poking out from behind Katsura’s head that read: _“it’s not Zura.”_

He knows it’s not his best work, because if he focuses on the pencil too much then he starts seeing three of them. He’s proud of it nonetheless, considering how fucking drunk he actually is. He holds it up proudly for his two friends to see and they immediately burst out in laughter, once more. 

“What ya laughin’ about?! It’s what ‘e looks like!” Gintoki slurs, defending his masterpiece. 

“His hair ain’t even connected to ‘is head, Kintoki!” Gintoki flips the paper to look at his drawing, oh, it’s not. Sakamoto laughs again, reaching for the pencil on the table. “Gimme tha paper.” Sakamoto begins to draw his version of current Katsura and when he’s done Gintoki’s sure his is the better drawing, though it might just be the alcohol talking. “This…” Sakamoto holds up the finished piece. “s’what Zura looks like now, ahaha!” 

Now it’s Gintoki’s turn to laugh. “Mine’s definitely more correct than that, asshole! Hair ‘n all!” 

“I hope I don't look like what either of ya have drawn! Here,” Katsura says, taking the paper from Sakamoto’s hands and starting on drawing Gintoki. “You two are just bad artists.” He states, not looking away from his work. 

“Well, we’re both piss drunk.”

“So am I! Doesn’t mean ya gotta make my hair float, Gintoki!” He takes a couple more minutes on his drawing before holding it up beside Gintoki’s face for Sakamoto and himself to compare. “Now, tell me that don’t look jus’ like ‘em.” 

“There’s a resemblance…” Sakamoto has his fingers on his chin like he’s looking at some expensive artwork in a museum. “But I could do better.” 

“Oi, don’t do me as dirty as you did Zura, Tatsuma…” Sakamoto doesn’t say anything, instead putting all of his drunken focus onto drawing Gintoki’s permy hair. By the time he’s done, it’s pretty clear that Katsura is the winner of the night. Gintoki doesn’t say anything about his lopsided eyes, they speak for themselves. Instead he flops onto his back, forearms behind his head as he takes to staring out towards the starry night sky. 

Silence falls onto the three friends once more, and moments pass between them where more things are felt than they are said. It brought him back to the old times, when they would climb onto rooftops and talk about what they thought the future was going to be like, Sakamoto going on and on about his dreams for travelling through space. With the crickets as loud as they were, it could almost pass as one of those cherished moments from the past; when the would was a little bit less cruel. 

“Do…” Gintoki begins, not quite sure why his mind lead him to this question, or why he even opened his mouth to say it. “Do you guys think that we’ll be able coexist one day?”

The length of time that it took for one of them to reply was not awkward, it was something between the three that they’d carried back from the war. The silence meant they were thinking, processing the different outcomes in their head. Between the minds of a strategist and a businessman, they both took their time, never saying something they didn’t mean. That’s why when Sakamoto took a breath in to speak, he gave him all of his remaining sleepy, drunken attention. 

“I think that the fact that we three can sit ‘ere like this is proof enough.” 

Katsura let his head fall onto the back of the sofa, arms crossed, closing his eyes to finally drift asleep. “I hope I live to see it.” 

Gintoki doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t need to. Sakamoto was already well on his way to passing out, if not already, and Katsura had taken the words right out of his mouth. He sits in the morning’s darkness, reveling in its peace and quiet. It’s a while before he joins the other two in sleep, and like most nights, his last thoughts are about how maybe one day, he can come out of hiding in his own home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wish i knew who did the vampires drawing themselves prompt on tumblr, but i cannot find them and thank them and give them props asdfhsdfgh but know this was a prompt idea i came across a long 'ol time ago 
> 
> i'm posting all of my chapter updates on my tumblr so thats a thing if y'all want to look at that. i feel like i thought of more things to say here but i really don't know what else there was so.  
> till next time.  
> im gonna go play some more ffxv. 
> 
> my tumblr: @gintokiu


	3. Being a Vampire Comes with it's Own Form of Constipation― Emotional Guilt.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some unlikely people strike a deal that they may or may not regret and Gintoki is too human for his own good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> quick updates now but this might be my last in a good while. I hope that you continue to place your faith in me and this story! thanks a lot for reading, I've been getting some super sweet comments and I wanted to tell you all again how thankful I am that you're here. 
> 
> I'm going to have a full week ahead of me, but this weekend I'm going to try to knock out another chapter while I have fewer distractions. once August 1st hits, my uploading will be significantly slower till who knows when. I'm praying that writer's block doesn't hit me while I'm busy with school. I love to write, but it's hard to find time to around this time of year, considering I'm an athlete as well. 
> 
> anyways, like I was saying! I'm relatively new here and it's just... asdfhjklkjfd. I love to share the happiness Gintama brings to me with other people, and with the support I've gotten thus far, it's truly inspirational. I'm going to complete this story, I might have an Ishida Sui moment where in the middle I'm just like "I hate it" because that's just me, but it will pass and I'm going to finish it. I strive to only put out things that I'm happy with, I'm trying not to throw yall shit in the form of a story, and I legitimately read over these chapters fifteen times at least to make sure I'm perfectly okay with the material I'm putting out. 
> 
> anyways, that's enough from me, time for the chapter. (also it's a little shorter this time, limited to save for next chapter so don't sue me thx)

Gintoki wakes up with a splitting headache, sun in his eyes, and Sakamoto snoring in his ear. He doesn’t know when the other perm had rolled onto the table exactly, but he wasn’t about to sit and question it. Yawning, he gets up and closes the blinds, preventing the sun from waking up Katsura like it’d done to him. Gintoki quietly slips into his room, careful not to make too much noise, and changes his clothes to get ready for the day. It was nearing nine in the morning, a time that was typically taboo for him and once more, he doesn’t know why he’s awake. 

He hears Katsura rustling around, getting up and fixing his sleep disheveled yukata. Buckling his belt in place, he exits his room and has to immediately stifle a laugh. Katsura’s hair is poofed at the top, which, he’s not quite sure how that happened considering the man typically sleeps like a statue― and there are several knots and tangles around the bottom that make him look like a child’s unkempt barbie doll. 

Katsura quietly clears his throat, whispering, “May I borrow leader’s hairbrush?”

Gintoki gives him a Look and proceeds to go and rummage through the bathroom’s messy drawer that Kagura kept most of her girl stuff in. Nail clippers, ointment of some sort, hair ties, chalk, nail polish, his lip gloss that he uses for Paako which he’d been trying to find for at least a month now, lotion, perfume, Shinpachi’s lost right sock, and a comb; that would have to do. 

Heading out of the bathroom, he doesn’t get but two steps in the living room till there’s a knock on the door behind him. Katsura and him exchange a glance, which told Gintoki that he hadn’t felt the stranger come up either. Gintoki tosses Katsura the comb, turning around to see who the visitor was. 

He slides open the door, peeking his head out, dead fish gleam in his eyes. Mutsu looks up at him, tilting her woven hat back into place. “Oh. It’s you.”

“I’ve come to collect my captain.” She monotonously states.

“Please, take him.” Gintoki moves aside to let her in, shutting the door behind her. Mutsu walks in, acknowledging Katsura’s presence with a bow, before going over to her commander. She picks him up, putting him on her back while he continues to snore away. 

“Awfully early for you two, isn’t it?” 

Gintoki shrugs, glancing over to Katsura who’s trying to run his fingers through the knots in his hair. “Is what is it.” 

“Why’s Katsura’s hair floating?”

“Don’t question my drunken masterpiece!”

Mutsu cracks a smile before turning to leave, and Gintoki follows her back to the door to see her out. “Oi.”

“What is it?” 

“He told us last night that he’d asked you before. I’m just letting you know that we won’t turn him if you don’t think he should be.” Mutsu stares at him for a moment, Sakamoto drooling onto her back, then gives him a nod in reply. She leaves just as quietly and quickly as she came. 

“I got you a comb, bastard. Why’re you using your fingers still?” 

“Because the ones in the back are hard to get out. I might be immortal, but my hair did not get any easier to maintain.” 

Gintoki groans, holding his hand out. “Lemme see it.” He states, and Katsura gives in with a sigh, handing over the comb. He immediately goes to work on the _actual nests_ intertwined in the other man’s hair, taking care not to pull too much on them. Not that it was tremendously hard, Kagura was always making him comb her hair for her when she was too tired or lazy to. Gintoki didn’t mind, he wouldn’t have his kids forever and that was okay, he was going to cherish them while he could. 

“I don’t know how you managed to do this.” 

“Alcohol works wonders.” Zura states, examining the tips of his side bangs for split ends. “Not that you have much room to talk with that mop you call hair-” Gintoki yanks on the knot, ripping it free from itself― Katsura shrieks. 

It’s well after noon when the two finally step out of the house, Katsura leading the way. They both had woven ajirogasa hats on, partially because the sun and partially because they didn’t know what they were going to find when they reached their destination. Thankfully, they blended into the crowd well; most of the populous had some sort of cover for their head, be it an umbrella or a hat, because the sun had decided to spew actual rays of fire onto Japan today. Not only that, but he was wearing his black shirt and pants, yukata properly over both shoulders to avoid the light from hitting his arms; and for the first time in fifteen years, he felt like he was sweating.

Surprisingly, even with the blazing heat, the crowds are thick and hard to navigate through. Katsura eventually ends up several yards away from him and although he has no problem keeping up, he doesn’t know where he’s going at all. Trying to watch for one hat in a sea of many while not stepping on someone's foot or getting stabbed in the eye with the side of an umbrella was difficult to juggle, even for a vampire. 

Someone he passes by complains about a smell and it doesn’t take him but a few steps to figure out what they’re talking about. It’s _putrid,_ and all too familiar. Gintoki sees Katsura walk off to the side to allow him to catch up, which he’s thankful for. The stench is beginning to lodge itself in the back of his throat it’s so thick, and it only gets worse when Katsura finally stops in front of the warehouse. There’s no denying it, the source of whatever was contaminating the streets was inside of this building.

Katsura motions for Gintoki to follow him, and they turn into the alleys behind it, not wanting to enter from the front and cause a commotion about whatever they were about to find. Katsura motions upward to the rooftop, and in a blink, disappears with only a vague black smoke trail to follow. Gintoki’s right behind him, and it takes only a second to scale the side of the building and float through the open window at the top of the roof. He’s not quite sure where humans got vampires transforming into bats from, but the sight before him doesn’t leave much time to question it. 

There are bodies on top of bodies, at least a hundred, and Gintoki regrets teaching himself how to breathe again. The stench of corpses decaying in a burning hot and damp warehouse immediately brought him back to summers spent on the battlefield. Except for this time, it wasn’t only men littered across the ground. Women, children, elderly... whole families killed in a single instant. No one was spared from whatever created the scene before them. 

“This is…” Katsura trails off, not knowing where to begin. “I would imagine that our man is not breathing anymore.” 

“Well, we might as well check and see.” He says, pushing over the body of an older man to look under him. There’s blood everywhere― open, nasty slices. They were quick and easy kills. Gintoki groans as he turns over a particularly gruesome corpse. Although the people are not alive, the beast is beginning to grow impatient, needy, restless; clawing at him once more. He was planning on eating tonight, following his three day schedule as normal; but this was quickly deteriorating his tolerance. He can feel his fangs digging into his tongue, begging. 

If Katsura’s struggling too he can’t tell, the other is too focused on finding Yushiro than anything. Meanwhile, Gintoki’s just hoping he doesn’t stumble upon any of his missing women in here. He’s never had to tell a client before that the person they were looking for had been killed, and he certainly doesn't want to start now. 

There’s trampled on beds all scattered around the floor, along with various common living items like blankets, drinking bottles, silverware, plates, children’s toys, and what looks like rations. These people were living here, hiding maybe, but from what? This was certainly no criminal organization like Katsura had suspected, possibly a cult of some sort, but very clearly not where gangsters and terrorists sat to discuss their next evil deeds. 

“Gintoki, I found him.” Katsura calls from the other side of the warehouse and Gintoki blinks over to his side. Sure enough, at his feet lay the body of Kawahara Yushiro, one of the two men that had been given to him by Otose. His face was definitely familiar, he’d seen him around the bar multiple times. “What’re you thinking?”

“That there’s something bigger going on in this town that we might suspect.” Katsura hums in reply, agreeing. They’re still missing something though, and he can’t quite pinpoint what it is. There’s… an echo, it’s faint but most definitely not his ears playing tricks on him. It was almost as if water was gently running somewhere near them. “Oi, Zura, you hear that?”

“Indeed. I’ve been wondering about it, but I was too concentrated at the task at hand to look into it. I believe it’s coming from below the building, look for a trapdoor or something on the ground.” Katsura states, pointing in the direction he wanted Gintoki to take. “It’s not uncommon for shady areas such as these to have hidden passageways in case of emergency.” 

Gintoki flips over a futon, dust flying up from the ground. “Well it sure did these people a bunch of good, didn’t it?” 

“This was most likely done by another kindred, Gintoki. That would explain why the bodies are so clustered and why the front door is still locked up tight. They probably came in from the same window we did.” Katsura pauses, examining the wounds on one of the female corpses. “I’m not saying it’s not possible for a human to inflict such wounds because we know it is, I just have the sense that’s not what happened here.” 

Gintoki doesn’t say anything back, opting to instead roll over bodies in search of where ever the echo was coming from. There’s a cluster of supplies and boxes in one of the corners of the warehouse and tired of flipping over the dead, he blinks over to it. The obvious aroma of food from inside the wooden crates had blocked the smell of dirty water but, once he moved them out of the way, he was greeted with the lovely scent of the city’s sewers. He calls Katsura over and lifts the door’s cover up so the terrorist could hop down and check the inside of the tunnel. 

At the same moment, there’s the snap of metal on the other side of the door, and all he can do before it’s slid open is kick Katsura down the hole and cover the entrance backup with boxes. “Go! I’ll meet you back at my apartment!” He whispers, and the Shinsengumi burst through the door, sunlight pouring into the warehouse behind them. 

“Holy shit…” Says one of the men, and it’s a voice he recognizes immediately. “It’s a fucking slaughterhouse in here… Shut down this area! I want it taped off at least a hundred and fifty meters down, go! Go!” Half of the men with him scurry off to go start taping the area off and Gintoki knows it’s only a matter of time before their eyes adjust and he’s spotted. 

“F-fu-fukucho! There’s a man down at the end of the warehouse, standing! He’s alive, sir! Shall we go in for the arrest?!” He can see Hijikata staring at him, cigarette smoke blown out of his nose. Gintoki stares back, hoping his dead fish eyes will make him look actually dead.

“No. Not yet.” The vice-commander replies, taking slow, deliberate steps towards him. “For now, go tell the shop owners around here that it’s closing time. This part of the street is shut off till further notice.” The remaining Shinsengumi members salute, jogging hesitantly away to go perform their orders. Hijikata hasn’t taken his eyes off of Gintoki and he knows his suspicions are back. He really doesn't want to kill this man, but he will if he has to. “I knew you were a shady bastard the moment I laid eyes on you… what, three days ago? Should’ve arrested you on the goddamned spot.”

“Officer, I believe that’s against something called due process.” 

“It’s not against something called probable cause, though.” Hijikata snaps back and there’s fire in his eyes. Gintoki’s sure there’s some in his, too, because goddamn it all― he’s fucking starving. Thankfully enough, he’s got one last ounce of willpower left to keep his fangs hidden to give him an actual fighting chance. 

“Ooo, so scary, what are you gonna do? _Search me?_ There’s a coupon for dog food in my pocket if you want that, office-” Hijikata slams Gintoki against the metal wall, holding him with a tight grip on his throat. In another life, such brutish treatment would’ve hurt, but now Gintoki’s only worry is playing the game. He winces, pinching his face up with a grimace, and lightly pushing on the other man's arm in a feeble attempt to move it from his neck. Gintoki’s had enough practice faking human emotions, he’d been doing it even before he was turned and so far, Hijikata’s eating it up. 

“I’m only going to ask this once, so listen up.” The grip on his neck tightens, and Hijikata spits his cigarette butt onto the ground. “What in the actual hell are you doing here, bastard?!” 

“I’m looking for some of the missing women, like I’m sure you are...” Gintoki chokes out his words, deciding that even in this predicament it was better to tell Hijikata the truth. Well, most of the truth. The officer glares, and there’s nails now digging into the back of his neck. “I told you, didn’t I? I’m the yorozuya around here, people come to me too for their missing loved ones, and often times before they go to you, vice-commander...” 

Hijikata’s face turns into something sour and he practically throws Gintoki away from the wall by his neck. He stumbles forward, rubbing the place where Hijikata’s hold on him had been so the other couldn’t see that there were no marks. “Oh, so I’m supposed to fucking buy that?” 

“It’s the truth.” Gintoki retorts blandly, biting on the inside of his cheek to keep his calm while his last few nerves start to fail him. 

“How the hell did you even get in here, then?” 

“Front door, just like you guys.”

“We had to _cut_ the door unlocked.” 

“Yeah, because I locked it when I came in.” 

Hijikata glares again, and his hand is resting on his katana’s handle anxiously, his pinky finger twitching ever so often. “Why’s the window up there open?”

“Hell if I know! It was open when I came in. Why do you think the streets reek so badly, officer?” 

Hijikata’s watching him, every move, every reply― all analyzed and rated within mere seconds. He kills kindred for a living, he knows how they hide and lie, dancing around the truth with little games. Gintoki also knows he’s walking on thin ice, but then again, what’s new? He’s had fifteen years to craft his masks and assume their roles, and he was confident in his acting skills. 

“So you’re telling me you walked in here, locked yourself in with a hundred rotting corpses stuffed in a dingy, blazing hot warehouse just so you could freely browse through bodies? _Are you fucking kidding me?”_ Hijikata says with a bite behind it, and Gintoki can feel the tension rise in the air as the vice-commander tightens his grip on his sword. “Sounds like you’re either a poor excuse for a thief, or a vampire.” 

Gintoki genuinely laughs, not expecting that to be thrown out so freely. Hijikata's putting him through quite the test, he's actually pretty impressed. “Good thing I’m neither one of those; I'm just trying to make a living here, officer.” 

Hijikata snorts, “So you at least know of them, then. Should’ve seen that coming from a mile away.” 

“I don’t know how many times I’m gonna have to repeat this for you, but I’m a yorozuya. I have my hands in a little bit of everything.” 

“That doesn’t sound like something you should be telling an officer.”

“Oh, but it is.” Gintoki begins to walk over to the body of Yushiro, Hijikata hesitantly following behind him. “Kawahara Yushiro, visited the Snack Bar Otose frequently and was involved in Katsura Kotarou’s gang before mysteriously going off the grid. I was looking into him as someone who could have maybe been the kidnapping women but so far none of the women I’ve found here were the missing girls.” 

“You know Katsura?” Hijikata says, narrowing his eyes at him suspiciously. Gintoki just holds his hand up, stopping the other man's train of thought.

“I know _of_ Katsura.” There’s another skeptic glare and Gintoki knows that Hijikata’s a little interested in him, or at least with the intel he has on the situation. “So far, we’ve got over ten women kidnapped off of Edo streets and men are being cold-bloodedly massacred in alleys. Now―” Gintoki waves an arm to the bodies littered around him. “We’ve got this whole situation to deal with. There’s no way in hell all of this is not connected; don’t you think so too, officer?” 

Hijikata doesn’t say anything, instead he watches Gintoki smirk, stepping over a body to get face to face with the vice-commander. “You need me, Hijikata. Where you can't cross the line, I can.” There’s a purr in his voice, an enticing smirk on his lips― a charm he mastered to feed was now being used to keep him hidden and possibly, to save his life. He tilts his hat back to look more inviting, whispering, “We’d make a great team, _Hijikata-kun...”_

Hijikata doesn't say anything, turning away from him and lighting up a cigarette as he walks to the entrance. “If you find something, then come to me. Other than that, leave it to the police.”

Gintoki follows after him, a slight skip in his step. “Am I getting paid for the information I give you?” 

“If you’re not satisfied with staying out of jail, I can handcuff you right now. Let’s see, trespassing, bribing an officer, att-” 

_“No!_ No, I’m good!” 

“And just to be clear, this doesn’t absolve my suspicion of you being a kindred, Yorozuya...” Hijikata states, walking to one of the patrol cars and pulling some papers for Gintoki to fill out. “Now, I’m just gonna need you to complete these, and we-” The vice-commander turns around, pen in hand, and a perm nowhere to be found. 

-

He’s fucking _starving_ and he can’t handle being near that warehouse one more goddamn second. He needs to eat soon or else the next person he drinks from he’s absolutely going to drink dry. He knows his eyes are glowing, and he’s already cut multiple slits down his bottom lip to keep the beast at bay for a while longer. He’s killed many, but never with his curse and he’s not about to start now. 

He’s blinking through the alleys, turning corners and watching unsuspecting Shinsengumi officers pass by on the street. All he needs is one person. It shouldn’t be that hard, why was it now? Pretty soon he was going to run out of alley and he really didn’t want to have to do his normal routine, he didn’t have the time nor the patience for it.

He comes to the end of alley and curses, tilting his hat down lower, relying on his senses to guide him across the street without drawing too much attention to himself. He needs to get to the other side of the street, to the other alleyways, and it’s a struggle to just not trip over his own feet. However, his hearing is doing a good job at keeping him away from the bustling and fast crowd, and be it the beast’s heightened hunger or him actually just paying attention, he makes it through with more ease than expected. He practically sprints further back into the entanglement of businesses and houses, and it’s then when he hears the wet flop of a cloth being wrung out and hung to dry. 

Gintoki’s head shoots up, there’s a woman, her door open, there’s… only one other person in the top level of the house with her. Glancing quickly to make sure she was the only one who could see him, he blinks up to her, checking before he went in for the meal if the other person was around to see them. She opens her mouth to scream but it’s quickly silenced by a hand and the shoot of pain that runs down from her neck to her toes; lingering like an electric shock. He walks her back into the house slowly, before she inevitably goes numb in his embrace.

_It feels so good to drink. Like a fireplace, it’s warm and inviting._

The beast is so hungry. It’s clawing at him, not satisfied with these small snacks. It wants a life, and Gintoki’s more than willing to give into the demands. He could kill her... he _could_ kill her. _It would be so easy to just let go and―_

Suddenly, there’s a cry and his head recoils away from the woman’s neck like he’d been struck, looking up for its source. It cries again, and right next to the bed laid the source of the sound. His stomach dropped as he watched the baby whimper, squirming in its crib, it’s mother unconscious and weak in his arms. Overcome with guilt, he places the woman on the bed and grabs one of the wet rags she was going to hang up, rubbing the blood off the side of her neck before folding it and placing it on her forehead. He cuts his lip again, rubbing his own blood in the marks, and he stays by her side till the wounds heal, hanging up the rest of the clothes to dry before he left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry, I couldn't make my vampires turn into bats. we all sin. 
> 
> anyways, y'all have a good day. I'm going to sleep before my boyfriend gets mad at me. it's like 5:52 a.m. as I'm typing this. oh well. I hope I still get those pancakes.
> 
> edit: i didn't.


	4. The Boys Didn't Drink Enough for This.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the title says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao hi, I'm back, I finally got a free weekend. between volleyball, a breakup, and life in general, this was very delayed and I apologize for that. I'm trying to get a month-to-month update schedule going here, I promise. 
> 
> thanks for sticking around. as always, enjoy. 
> 
> <3

The nighttime air is chilling, the upcoming fall season beginning to usher in it’s cooler temperatures. Not that he minded, Hijikata loved to roll the windows down while he was patrolling in the car, to have a few cigarettes and just relax while he drove; which was precisely what he was doing. 

The roads were scarce, save for the occasional homeless or drunkards, not many people were out at two in the morning on a Wednesday night, especially with all the recent happenings. It was an easy patrol, which was why tasks like these were given to the less reliable of the Shinsengumi members. Of course, everyone still had to keep their eyes peeled for any sort of activity― vampiric or not. After all, there were still men being found dead in the streets, and women going missing without so much as a trace. Something was dangerously wrong in Edo, and the lack of… well, _any_ leads whatsoever kept him up hours every night. 

Speaking of leads, they hadn’t found jackshit yet with the perm’s, and the guy hadn't so much as shown his face anywhere that he or his men had seen. Hijikata had a background check run on him, which came up rather weird, to say the least. No one could get anything from the first half of his life, and the people who did know something said he was very tight-lipped about his past. Other than that, they got a lot of information on the people he interacted with, such as the Shimura siblings and the old lady that runs the bar. Not that that was extremely helpful, however it was a start. He’d have to get Yamazaki to stakeout his house in the next upcoming days. 

At this point, he’s not taking any chances. Gintoki seems like the type to be hiding enough secrets to disappear off the radar for months at a time when the police get a little too close for his comfort. He’d dealt with many criminals like that and now with two and a half weeks gone by since the warehouse incident along with no signs of a silver perm, his intuition is feeling more and more right by the minute. 

He’s praying he’s wrong, he wants to trust the guy in hopes he can get more out of him and stop the senseless killings and kidnappings, but he can’t afford to waste time on finding someone like that when more and more phone calls keep coming in. 

He’s got the wife of Miyake Kazuo to meet with tomorrow, and he just hopes she’ll actually be able to talk. They’d tried to get information out of her a week ago, but she was still too emotionally wrecked and wouldn’t speak; along with everything going on in his schedule, tomorrow was the soonest date that he could make to hopefully get a lead while still ensuring her time to mourn.

Hijikata lets out a yawn while pulling into the barracks, snuffing his cigarette out in the car’s ashtray. The barracks are quiet, and aside from the nighttime watch making their rounds and the cicadas, everyone is mostly fast asleep in their rooms. It’s nearing three, and he’s just glad there hasn’t been another call in yet. They typically come around this time, right before the sun starts to come up. It’s a good sign, to say the least. 

He makes short time of getting to his room, and after a quick shower and a lone report, he turns off his lamp and prepares himself mentally for the upcoming day, before falling restlessly asleep.

 

His handwriting is terrible, all wiggly and sloppy. He’s having to write down his questions for Kazuo’s wife, Toriko, while Kondo drives them to her house. He’s talking to him about the same insane cabaret girl as always. Of course, he’s not listening to a bit of it, too focused on the task at hand then catering to Kondo’s one-sided love affection. Not that he didn’t care, he just didn’t care― at the moment. 

There’s so many things still hidden to him; he realizes this fact as he scratches out yet another word. Between the girls, the murders, and now this massacre… 

For the first time in what seems like ever, he’s really at a loss with what to do. 

Hijikata only can hope that this meeting will relieve some of the anxiety that’s tensing up both him and the entire city. Everyone wants to see an end to the killings, everyone wants to see their loved ones returned to them, their friends, mothers, daughters; and everyone is looking towards the Shinsengumi to fix it. 

He groans, crumbling the piece of paper in his hands. _Fuck it._

“Toshi? Are you alright?” Kondo asks, eyes darting from the road to him, then back to the road― checking to see if he was okay.

“I’m fine, just a little stressed out is all.” 

“Those long nights are starting to get to you, I can tell. You’re only human, Toshi. You need to get more rest then what you’re getting now.” He rolls his eyes at the suggestion, like it was even an option for him; and although Kondo can’t see it, he knows. “Don’t give me that. You know I’m right.” There’s another frustrated sigh in return and Hijikata just takes out a cigarette in reply. “Vampires aren’t going anywhere anytime soon, remember where your priorities lay.”

“It’s precisely that vampires aren’t going away soon that I’m working so hard.” Hijikata takes a drag, watching houses pass by outside the window. “I won’t have another Mitsuba, Kondo-san.” 

A heavy silence falls over them with that statement, and it stays that way until they reach the residence of Miyake Toriko. Kondo shuts off the car, and it seems only correct for the already sprinkling clouds to begin pouring that very moment. Hijikata takes out a blank sheet of paper and steps out of the car, cigarette crumbled the dirt below his feet. He runs a hand through his hair, and steps up to the door. Kondo’s right behind him, which is comforting, and he tries to relax his shoulders and brows before he knocks. 

Not a moment later, there’s the slide of the door’s lock being undone, and it creaks open a slight bit. “Who is it?” A woman says, and it’s not a voice he recognizes. 

“I’m vice-commander Hijikata Toshiro, here with commander Kondo Isao. We’re with the Shinsengumi, for Miyake-san.” Hijikata states, already trying to figure out why another woman was here in the household. _Protection, maybe?_ In any case, the other lock on the door gets undone and it’s opened for them to enter. 

“Welcome, she’s in her room. I’ll escort you in just a moment.” The woman says, closing the door behind them and locking it back up. It’s dark inside, there’s a few candles lit and the tv is running the news silently in the living room. The air is heavy in here too, like their presence is being pushed out by the house itself. Kondo starts slipping off his shoes and Hijikata follows, glad that Kondo had reminded him to. That would’ve been bad. He’s getting too caught up in everything, he needs to calm down or else he’s not going to be able to pay full attention to Toriko’s story and her body language as she tells it. 

The other woman slips by them, motioning for the two men to follow her. Hijikata wants to ask what her name is, what her business is here, but it’s not the right moment yet; he can tell Kondo is thinking the same thing. Instead, they’re guided through the quiet house until they reach the furthest back room. 

“Toriko, they’re here.” The mystery woman calls out, and there’s no reply. However, the woman seems unfazed and turns around to ask them if they would like something to drink, which they both decline. She slides open the door, revealing a small room with a table, which sat the former wife of Miyake Kazuo. 

They walk in and bow, the door shut closed behind them. Toriko is wearing a dark gray kimono, a cup of untouched green tea growing cold before her. There’s an altar in the back corner, and he doesn’t have to look to see who it’s for. They both sit down before her, the silence of the room blurring out the pouring of the rain and the light steam coming off the lone drink.

“Hello, Miyake-san. Once more, we’re incredibly sorry for your loss and hope that you can help us take measures in ensuring that tragedies like this do not happen again.” Hijikata says, his voice gentle and country accent replaced with sympathy. 

She clicks her tongue, turning her head away from them to the window. “Save the formalities, Hijikata-san. I have no need for them anymore with Kazuo gone. We’re all slaves to something higher than us, and I’m sick of it, as I’m sure you are too.” Toriko states, voice void of emotion. She turns back, locking eyes with him. “So please, if you do not mind, let’s just save each other some time and get this over with.” 

Hijikata and Kondo exchange a look before they both pull out a pen and paper. “Well then, Miyake-san, let’s get into it.”

\- 

“Gin-chaaan! I’m _hungry!_ Feed me!” Kagura yells, standing on his back and swaying back and forth to shake him. He’s currently on the couch, he’s been on the couch for hours now, and with Shinpachi sick at home and the pouring down rain, he hasn’t really wanted to move away from the soap opera binge session he was currently enjoying. Would Chiyo figure out that Kaneshi was cheating on her with Ayano? Would she still be able to love him after finding out? Was Ayano _really_ pregnant with Kaneshi’s child? He needed to know. 

“Gin-chan!” She jumps and he groans, feeling his immortal rib cage quake in fear. 

“What do you want, demon child?!”

“Food!” She yells, and jumps again. “I want food! Food! Food!”

“Well if you break Gin-chan’s ribs, the only thing you’re going to be getting is a visit to the hospital with me!” Gintoki rolls over, forcing Kagura to step off of him and onto the table. “Fine! What do you want?” 

It’s not five minutes later Gintoki is in the kitchen, cooking Kagura three omurice servings while she talks to him about how Chiyo is actually a huge player and doesn’t deserve all the effort Kaneshi was putting into her, even though he was cheating. He somewhat agrees, Chiyo was kind of a bitch. Hell, in his past life he’d kill to have someone buy him out a restaurant for the night with all he can eat food. Come on, Chiyo. Are you blind?

When he’s done cooking, he throws on his black shirt and pants, pauses the soap opera, and takes himself and Kagura down to visit with Otose for a while. He opens the door for her, holding up Kagura’s umbrella on the way down so she wouldn’t get her omurice wet. Because of the torrential downpour, it was quiet in the streets and even quieter in the usually bustling bar. Tama was refueling herself quietly in the background while Catharine snored on her shoulder. Otose was organizing liquors when Gintoki opened the door for Kagura and she came running in, anxious to eat her omurice before it got cold. 

“Ah, what’re you two doing out in this weather?” Otose asks, cleaning the bar’s counter where Kagura was eating. “Isn’t Shinpachi sick?”

“He is.” Gintoki shakes off the umbrella, placing it by the door where it wouldn’t get knocked down. “You act like we didn’t just walk down the steps to get here.” 

She snorts in reply, picking up an unopened bottle of sake to pour him, which he declines, much to her surprise. He’s not in the mood to drink today, weirdly enough. Actually, he’s not in the mood to do anything really, so he goes around the counter and decides to at least make himself useful by washing the bar’s used glasses. 

“So, why are you here then? I’d typically say you’re making a nuisance of yourself, but for once you’re not, so I really don’t know what to say.” 

Gintoki just shrugs, rinsing the soap off the cup. “Just cause.” Otose seems to find that a good enough reason, and goes back to cleaning the shelf. There's silence in the bar, not unwelcome silence, just silence. They’re all focused on their tasks: cleaning, napping, eating; there’s no conversation and that’s alright. He doesn’t know how many minutes are spent like this, all he knows is by the next time he thinks about it, Catharine, Kagura, and Tama are all sleeping or powered down― and himself and Otose are sitting quietly at the bar. He’s twirling a glass in his fingers while she unwinds with some tea. 

“How are things going? With you and the case, of course.” She whispers, head resting on her hand. 

“I haven’t gotten the chance to talk to Katsura much after the warehouse incident, and I know Hijikata is going to be keeping a close eye on me until I show myself again. I’m surprised he hasn’t already sent someone to watch me.” 

“How do you know he hasn’t?”

“Well, he doesn’t seem like the type to send a vampire out, and an unguarded one at that. There also hasn’t been any new long-staying presences around us recently.” He whispers back, the rain still pouring down outside. 

“Hmmf. Well, that’s good to know.” 

“Are you worried?”

“No, you can take care of yourself in that regard. It’s when it comes to other things that I begin to worry about you.” She says, getting up and going around the counter to pour herself some more hot tea. He sighs, letting her go about it until he hears the sound of the pot slip out of her fingers and begin to fall. He blinks over the counter, catching it by the bottom with his hands and protecting her from the scalding hot tea that had already fallen out of the pot by letting it hit himself. Otose stumbles back, hand reaching out to grab the counter as she processed what had just happened. 

He places the pot back up on the small stove, pouring her the cup of tea she had wanted and setting it where she had been sitting prior to the incident. He looked around, checking to see if anyone had been awoken by the scuffling, which thankfully, no one had. He goes around to his seat and sits down, the hot tea still burning on his chest. He let his hands heal, the exposed red and pink flesh mending back together into fresh, pale skin while Otose watched. He knew her age was getting to her. He also knew she wasn’t the type to let it stop her from working and doing things she used to. For a brief moment, he wonders how much time he has left with her.

“Why’d you make so much?” 

“I thought you might want some, you or the rest of them.” 

“Baba, you know I don’t drink anything other than alcohol. It’s a pain enough throwing up that.” He says, flexing his hands so the new skin stretched out and didn’t feel so… _new._ She just huffs, taking a sip from the cup. “I’m going to go change out of this so I can bring Kagura back up and put her in bed.”

Otose nods and watches him get up and walk to the door. He slides it open, the rain creating a stronger haze in his head but… _no, he’s sure he had heard it... _He looks back to Otose who’s giving him a confused look, and then it happens again, a scream, a male’s voice. He knows Otose had heard that one, because her eyes widen and her hand tightens around the glass. He’s out the door in less than a second, gone towards the voice without a glance back.__

__-_ _

__“So let me repaint the story back to you, just to make sure I have all the correct information down; once we have that you can continue your evening without us.” Hijikata says, inhaling the smoke of a cigarette Toriko was kind enough to let him light._ _

__“So, you never knew your husband, Miyake Kazuo, was involved in any gang-related activity. He frequently brought around suspicious men but you didn’t want to bring it up to him because you feared of accusing him of something you were assuming to be the truth.” She nodded, he went on._ _

__“Around the last two months prior to his death, he began acting weirdly, warning you to stay clear of men with... tattoos on their neck?”_ _

__“Yes, he was very adamant about that, though he never did give me a reason as to why, even when I asked him. I tried multiple times to get that answer and he never would tell me.”_ _

__Hijikata pauses, writing that down. “Okay, so then after that, Kazuo would go missing several nights in a row. What was the longest amount of time he was gone at most?”_ _

__Toriko sighs, her eyes cast up to the ceiling in thought. “Mmm, four days in a row.”_ _

__“What would you say the usual amount of time he spent at home in a week would be?”_ _

__“Maybe a few nights, if I was lucky. I rarely saw him during the day and many times if he did spend the night, he would leave sometime during the morning before I got up.”_ _

__Hijikata nods, continuing to look over the pages of information he’d written in the last two hours. “Alright. So after he began these weird habits, you said he’d invited you to come to where he was staying and you refused, not wanting to leave the house. That turned into an argument where he was, quote, _“trying to keep you safe”_ and you were simply wanting him to come back home.”_ _

__“Yes, that’s correct.”_ _

__“Not too long after that, he disappeared and then the news came in...” She nodded and with that, he folded up his papers and stuffed them into his suit. Kondo was the first to stand up, Hijikata following after him. “Well, Miyake-san, you help has been greatly appreciated. I promise you, your time spent tonight will not go to waste.”_ _

__She stands up as well, walking to the altar before saying a quick prayer to her husband. “It better not. As much as I hate to say it, you Shinsengumi boys do a much better job protecting us than the Mimawarigumi do.”_ _

__Hijikata smiles, and both himself and Kondo bow in gratitude. “Thank you, have a good rest of your evening.” They escort themselves out, the woman from before fast asleep on the couch in the living room. As for Toriko, it seemed that she had grown much stronger since the last time he’d talked to her, and he hopes it wasn’t just a front she put up for them._ _

__Kondo goes around and starts the car, motioning for Hijikata to get inside. However, it dawned on him that the door to the Miyake household was still unlocked. The other woman hadn’t seen them go out, so she couldn’t have gotten up and locked it when she left._ _

__Hijikata sighs, opening up the patrol car door and throwing his notes in, before shutting it and turning back around to ensure that their house was secure. He knocks, receiving no reply, and decided that it was best to go in and wake up the woman on the couch to inform her that they were leaving. He once more, slips off his shoes and heads towards the living room, gently waking the mystery woman and telling her they were leaving. She says nothing, but does follow him to the door, which was all that mattered._ _

__He didn’t know why she was acting so… upset with their presence ever since they’d gotten to the house. However, it didn’t matter now; they were leaving and he knew he didn’t carry the best reputation in the community; it was best not to think too deep into it with that in mind._ _

__She closes the door behind him, and it’s a relief to hear the clicks of locks. He opens up the car and that’s when he hears it― the scream. Kondo hears it too, but Hijikata ensures that he doesn’t need to follow him and should focus on getting the interview safely back to the barracks. He grabs up his sword from the seat and slams the door, following the cry._ _

__The rain is coming down hard and it doesn’t help that the wind is picking up, flinging the droplets of water into his eyes like shards of broken glass. It’s hard to focus on where the sound is because the screen of rain hitting tin roofs and glass and dirt is causing his head to go crazy. It’s been a while since he’d been on a chase like this, a few weeks maybe. The last one was Gintoki’s, but even then the bastard wasn’t running from them. Now lost in the maze of houses, he just prays his intuition is right when he takes turns, never failing to look down every alley he passes by. There’s been no other scream, which isn’t a good sign, and he’s starting to fear he’s too late. The sound was so close… why is it that he can’t find it?_ _

__He stops running, the blur in his vision mixed with tears from the scratchy water and his heart racing makes him wonder if he’d passed it up in his hurry. Even so, he continues forward on his path, taking more time to check and see that he wasn’t missing the body or anything that a body could be dumped into._ _

__Of course they would strike while it was raining, any smart killer knows that blood is easily disposed of with rain. Hijikata lets out a groan of frustration, having nearly come to the end of the maze of houses and no sign of any body or large container. He jogs forward, taking the last turn with a slippery halt._ _

__A dumpster― and more importantly, a silver-haired perm that appears at the opposite end of the alley the very second he gets there._ _

__Hijikata and Gintoki make eye contact, both walking forward to where they suspected the body to be stored. Sure enough, there’s a faint pool of blood right in front of the dumpster, washed mostly away by the downpour, but nonetheless fresh._ _

__Gintoki has his hand on the lid, and looks toward Hijikata for approval to open it. He nods, and the moment the lid is cracked open he can already smell metallic. Before them is the body of a man, barely breathing, neck sliced in the same manner as the previous victim and various organs pulled messily out of his torso. Hijikata winces, the feeling of guilt pooling in his stomach and getting caught in the back of his throat. He wants to throw up, to look away as this man struggles to take breathes in hopes his heart will keep beating with the oxygen flow. He doesn’t know his intestines are ripped out of his body, that he’s bleeding so bad that he’s turned all the garbage beside him crimson; and the worst part of it all is that he’s staring _right at Hijikata._ _ _

__He can’t take his eyes away. All he can do is watch this man's life drain out of him as he takes his final breath._ _

__Moments pass, and by the time he’s finally jutted out from the shock by Gintoki closing the lid, he falls back onto his ass, not caring that his new suit was just ruined from the mud and the man’s blood. Not caring that the very man that had disappeared for two weeks was mere feet away from him. Not caring that he’d just smacked the shit out of his head and that his hearing was now replaced by a ring._ _

__He’d seen many people die. He doesn’t know why this is so different. All he knows is that the only type of man who could kill this brutally, hide a body, and escape the scene without a trace― was someone who is not a man at all._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been getting some super uplifting comments recently, and those are part of the reason I took the time today to skip out on an event I prob(most defiantly)ably should have gone to. but hey, who cares now? not me.
> 
> also there might be a shit ton of typos or grammar issues in this, i just REALLY wanted to post it, like, asap. 
> 
> i hope y'all have an amazing rest of your week. until next time, happy painting. 
> 
> (p.s. i recently dressed up as bob ross. so now i have bob ross lingo. it's great.)
> 
> my tumblr: @gintokiu


	5. We are All a Little Like the Phone― Sad, and a Shell of Our Former Selves.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hijikata is a little bit oblivious and Gintoki has Problems™.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I fully intend to make Gintoki suffer as much as possible.  
> Enjoy.

He needed to call Kondo.  
Hijikata fumbled through his pockets, hands shakingly pulling out his drenched cell phone. Pressing the power button multiple times to no avail, the blank screen stared mockingly back at him. Water was running off of his nose and his hair, dripping onto the keyboard, further plunging this bad situation to hell. 

Gintoki reaches down, flipping the phone closed and stuffing it in his own pocket before holding out his hand for Hijikata to take. The officer begrudgingly took it and the perm pulled him up onto his feet, motioning for him to follow. Not knowing what else to do, Hijikata did as he was told, jogging along in the rain to some unknown destination. 

Through the mess that was his mind, he still realizes quickly that he could easily be killed if Gintoki wished for it. Gintoki had his katana through his belt, along with the wooden bouken the perm was never seen without. He doesn’t know when he had even dropped his sword, nor when Gintoki had picked it up, the past… five?― minutes had been completely a blur, both mentally and physically; he was sure his eyes were bloodshot to hell after all of the rain he’d gotten in them. 

But that was all beside the point, vampires were known to trick officers who showed a vulnerability by helping them, leading them astray until they could pick them off when they had a chance. That’s one of the reasons he was always so cold and uninviting. Now here he was, blindly following someone whose story didn’t add up at all, who was still under suspicion of being a kindred, and who had the only means of him protecting himself. Still, the perm was Hijikata’s only saving grace from the panic attack that he was steadily coming down from, and Hijikata was going to take advantage of that for as long as he could.

Gintoki leads them out to an open street, illuminated by warm street lights, rain dancing in their glow. All of the businesses on the road had already closed up, with the torrential downpour of rain making for a lack of any and all customers, there was no point in keeping them open anyways. Gintoki walks him across the street, sliding open the doors to a little bar with a single lamp in the front of it. An old lady, a young girl, and two other women all looked up as soon as they entered, eyes fixated on him, not caring that they were staring. 

He was dropped off, then Gintoki was back out the door once more.

Hijikata didn’t know what to do, that’s why he breathed a little sigh of relief when the older woman motioned for him to have a seat at the bar. Aside from the constant downpour and the quiet bubbling of hot tea, the bar was deathly silent; and he took his only solitude in watching himself in the reflection on the liquor bottle across the counter. Anxiously awaiting the perm’s return, Hijikata bounced his leg on the stool’s footrest, his sopping wet hair dripping tiny puddles onto the counter. He was soaked, cold, and confused; his mind still swarmed with the images of the moments prior to this, filled with the bloody gargle of breath caught in the dying man’s throat. 

Another life lost to a threat Hijikata keeps failing to get a hold of.

Thankfully, Gintoki entered the bar again roughly a minute later, snapping his mind out of it’s loop. He had a couple of towels in hand along with the same white yukata lined with blue swirls he’d seen Gintoki wearing in the warehouse. He sets the yukata and the towel onto the counter before him, directing him to the bathroom with the instructions of _‘take a warm shower.’_

Of course, Hijikata does what he’s told, feeling too out of place not to follow. He sets the clothes down by the bathroom sink, peeling his wet and filthy suit off his body and wringing it out in the bath. He holds up the pants, the same sick feeling from before returning to him. The navy blue was nearly black with the rain, but there was clearly blotches of blood here and there, both on the pant legs and the behind. Hijikata swallows the feeling down, rolling the pants up and setting them inside of the sink before turning on the shower. 

He makes quick work of warming himself up and rinsing off, and he’s out of the shower and dry in just a few minutes. He doesn’t want to waste the old lady’s water, she’s already doing enough for him. The woman, Terada Otose, is the person who Gintoki rents out his apartment to. It had taken him this long to realize it, but he was in fact, right under Gintoki’s home. Which was… strange, to say the least. 

Hijikata unfurls the yukata, a pair of pink strawberry boxers placed inside the fold. He doesn’t really know what to say about that, so he decides to leave it be and swallows his pride. The yukata fits him perfectly, and somewhere in the back of his mind he wonders why Gintoki doesn’t wear it correctly, but the thought is quickly pushed aside. He grabs up his wet clothes and the used towel, walking out into the bar. The two other women, the one with the cat ears and the one with the green hair are gone and so is the kid, and it’s just Otose and Gintoki sitting down quietly at the bar. 

Gintoki looks over to him, glass of whiskey in hand. “Warm?”

“Yeah, getting there, thank you… Do you have a trash can that I can throw these away in?” Hijikata asks, holding up the ruined suit. 

“Yeah, I’ll get them later, for now just throw them down with the towel over there somewhere.” The perm replies, motioning with his head toward the area by the door. Hijikata tosses them in the designated area, and takes the seat one away from Gintoki. Immediately the stagnant silence comes back and settles over the three, each of them resting in their own respective spaces until Otose makes a move for the tea and Gintoki stops her.

While up, Gintoki asks is Hijikata wants something to eat, sliding the steaming cup of green tea before him and leaning against the counter. “We have udon, and I’ve already made, like, thirty plates of omurice today so I can go make you some of that if you would like. I’m practically a professional at this point.” Otose rolls her eyes, taking a drag of her cigarette at the comment. 

“Ah, udon is fine I guess…” Gintoki nods in reply, fetching a bowl from under the counter and spooning out some noodles. “What about my phone?” 

Gintoki pulls it out from his pocket, the thing sad and wet, a shell of it’s former self. “Dead. But don’t worry, I already called your commander and filled him in on the situation. He told you to not come down to the scene and to focus on staying well. Said they’d send someone to pick you up as soon as they could.”

Hijikata sighs, the bowl of udon slid in front of him. “I see... thanks.” 

Gintoki just hums, grabbing the glass of his whiskey and downing the remainder like it was water. This whole situation was weird. He and the perm had never gotten along and he could tell that under any other normal circumstance, they would be bickering and threatening each other like their first two interactions. Besides, even without the whole vampire deal, Hijikata knew that Gintoki had at least a few crimes under his belt; it was just a intuition thing, and there were few times that his intuition failed him.

“Your hair’s still wet.” Hijikata states, idly slurping noodles as he watched Gintoki pour himself another drink. 

“Yeah.” 

“Why?”

“Cause.” He shrugs, making himself another drink. “Had to get you clothes. Didn’t feel like taking a shower yet. Wanted whiskey. There’s a variety of _‘whys,’_ none of them that would make you satisfied with the answer, though.” He says, and Hijikata knows he’s probably right. 

“Still, you’re gonna catch a cold.” 

“Haven’t caught one of those in years, I’ll take my chances, _taicho.”_

Hijikata glances up from his noodles with the casualty of his title being thrown around and immediately his eyes catch Gintoki’s. The perm is observing his subtle reactions to things, testing the waters, if you will― and he knows it. Gintoki knows that too, which is maybe why he’s doing it in the first place. Meanwhile, Otose is still sitting further down the counter, her silence and the smoke from her cigarette filling the air up with more weight than it needed. 

Gintoki's the first one to talk, breaking the static between them. “Baba, I’ll close up for you while we wait on the Shinsengumi to pick up their leader here. If you want to get to bed then you can.” 

“Pfft, since when are you ever considerate?” She says, sliding off of the stool with a strange grace. “Fine, wake me up when I need to come lock it. Oh, and don’t forget to turn off the outside lantern.” Gintoki hums in acknowledgment as Otose exits to one of the farther back rooms, her door sliding closed with a gentle tap that seemed to echo throughout the bar. 

Hijikata finishes his already cooling tea and Gintoki begins washing both the empty udon bowl and the glass. Hijikata wants to say something about the whole situation, about what they’ve been through thus far, and strangely enough, he wants to have a conversation with him that isn’t filled with threats of imprisonment. Gintoki is quiet but loud, open yet reserved, foolish but sharp all at once. He wants to know why, but he doesn’t know at all how to ask. Should he just say something? Clear his throat? Tap his finger a little faster?

“You look constipated.” 

_“Huh?”_

“What? Just saying what comes to mind.”

“I’m not constipated.”

“Never said you were, just that you looked like it.”

“I’m just thinking.” 

“About?”

“A lot of things.” He pauses, “This is a rather weird situation, is it not?”

Gintoki nods his head lightly to the sides in agreement. “Yeah, ‘suppose so.” He finishes drying the tea cup and puts it away inside of the counter. “What’s the most strange is you haven’t held me up against a wall yet.” 

Gintoki laughs at his joke and Hijikata rolls his eyes. “Day’s not over yet, asshole.”

“Be careful, that can mean many things for someone like me.” 

There’s a sadistic grin that follows Gintoki's comment and Hijikata swats his hand at it, looking outside to the rain. “Shut up.”

Gintoki laughs and refills his whiskey glass, taking a sip. “In all seriousness though, you can be nice. Didn’t think that was possible.”

“It’s rare, enjoy it.” 

“I will. Want something to drink?” 

“Sake would be nice.”

Gintoki turns around, pulling an unopened bottle from the shelves and popping it open, pouring the liquor into a sake glass. Hijikata downs it, grateful for the burn that lingers in the back of his throat. Tonight was definitely one for drinking, just not here. As comfortable and welcoming as Gintoki was trying to make it, Hijikata could never let his guard down when he wasn’t at the barracks. Not that he didn’t appreciate the gesture, of course; the comfort of the situation was helping him stay calm, which meant a lot more than even he himself knew. 

“I’m gonna go check and make sure Kagura is going to bed, do you want to come?”

Confused, he asks, “Why would I want to?”

“You still think I’m a vampire, right? I thought it would alleviate some of that suspicion if you saw my house.” 

“Vampires don’t tend to keep anything vampiric in their houses. They just kind of... exist.” He pours himself some more alcohol, continuing. “‘M fine down here, don’t want to get wet again.” 

“Fair enough.” The perm shrugs, door sliding shut behind him. 

There’s little light in the bar, most of it is the seemingly constant crack of lighting bolts in the sky. The sake is good, exactly what he needs after the night’s events. It’s blurring his senses just enough, not so far down that his safety is at risk but enough that his mind isn’t flooded with thoughts of endless paperwork and scraping up clues already long washed away with the rain. 

Gintoki isn’t talking about the situation from earlier either, which helps in a way. Obviously what had happened hadn’t affected him like it had Hijikata. Whatever the reasoning behind that was, he was positive that a man’s dying breath wasn’t something unfamiliar to him― which could mean a handful of things, none immediately good. 

Hijikata sighs, rolling his shoulders back so they wouldn’t be so tense. _Fine,_ one more drink. 

-

As soon as the door to his apartment shuts behind him, the smile drops off of his lips like it never had lived there in the beginning. 

“What the fuck are you still doing here?” Gintoki whispers to the wig lounging over his couch. “I thought if I got the vice-commander to come up then I could get rid of you, but it seems like that didn’t even work.” 

Katsura laughs, tossing the strand of hair he was twirling to the side. “I see no vice-commander, which is precisely why I’m still here.” 

“What do you want and why are you sneaking into my house?”

“I came to see how you’re doing.” Katsura picks himself up off the couch, walking over towards his friend standing in the doorway. “Obviously not very well.”

“I’m hungry, that’s all. Besides, it’s not like I’m going to be eating tonight, so fuck off.” 

“How long have I been telling you that you need to drink more?” Katsura whispers, leaning against the wall. “Look at yourself. Well, not literally… but you’re not healthy. If you don’t start drinking more from people you’re going to kill someone, Gintoki.” 

“I know.” 

“Think about all the people you have around you on a day to day basis, it’s going to be one of them.” Katsura’s eyes are locked onto his own, burning. “Pushing back the temptation of drinking someone dry is what many of our kind morally strive to achieve, but when you under-drink like you’re doing, you’re gonna slip up and have even more blood on your hands.” Gintoki groans in frustration, an annoying pain drilled into the back of his head. 

Katsura ignores his friend’s vexation and continues, arms crossed, unyielding and scolding. “You should know this more than anyone, it was by luck that you were able to snap out of it and didn’t end up killin-” 

“ _Shut up._ I get it.” That statement comes out with more growl and snap than he’d intended and there’s a subtle look that flashes in Katsura’s eyes, however Gintoki can’t find it in himself to care at the moment. They’d been together for most of their lives, it wasn’t the first time he’d hurt Katsura’s feelings and it wouldn’t be the last. Gintoki knows he’s right, but his nerves are shot from the scene from before it’s taking every bit of his willpower to maintain his composure in front of the vice-commander so he doesn’t slip up and get himself killed. Agitation and need clawing at his will, fingers twitching ever so often, needy. “For now, get out of my house. I don’t want the Shinsengumi rolling up with you here. Come back tomorrow since you’ve finally decided to show yourself after two weeks.” 

“Just be careful, Gintoki.” Katsura says, walking over to Gintoki’s bedroom so he could escape out the window. “You’re playing with fire.” 

_“Leave.”_

Katsura does as he’s told, shutting his bedroom door behind him. Pushing aside the growing ache and agitation welling up in the pit of his stomach, Gintoki puts back on his smile, preparing to meet the Shinsengumi car that was at the end of the street. He pops his head back into the bar, allerting Hijikata as the headlights stopped in front of the house. 

The officer bows in thanks, white yukata drooping ever so slightly off of his shoulder, exposing a collarbone that made his mouth water. _Shit._ Hijikata says something about the food and the clothing but Gintoki’s not hearing any of it, he just nods and that seems to be enough because Hijikata gets in the backseat without another word. The car drives off, it’s vice-commander in tow, Gintoki's teeth digging into his tongue. 

Knowing he shouldn't wake Otose up in the state he was in, he turns off the lantern, locking the bar’s doors from the inside and blinking through the crack underneath the door and up into his apartment. Stumbling over his own feet in a futile attempt to stay quiet, he heads straight for the fridge, pulling out a handful of uncooked beef and practically throwing it into his mouth. 

The taste is unbearingly foul, what little blood resided in the meat just furthered his deprivation. He spits the vile, unchewed meat in the sink, washing his mouth out with water, a lingering taste of bloody cardboard left stuck to his mouth and only more needy than before. Defeated, Gintoki makes his way to his futon, not caring how wet or hungry he was, and eventually falls asleep to Kagura's soft breathing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also happy birthday to Gintoki, the hero we needed but never deserved.  
> I'll make him happy one day, and that day will make all of this worth it.
> 
> also look at me with my monthly update schedule yes queen fight that depression!!! ☆☆☆  
> k I'll be back later.  
> I've already start on chapter six and I'm having fun heheehe  
> it will make up for this short mess, I promise.
> 
> have a good day y'all.


	6. Everyone's Just Tired, Including the Author.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> lil light dick succ and hijikata is Stressed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im emotionally, mentally, and physically drraaiiinneeddd lemme tell yall
> 
> i was gonna have this up yesterday right? didnt happen. i was upset at myself and the world but it just wasn't gonna happen. but now it's happening. so here.
> 
> also, tag updates. anyone not okay with (very very minor) sexy times can skip to the first "-" when you want to continue reading not sexy times.  
> hahaaaa im so tired this is probably baaaddd but here we go, Alex's special halloween update. (there's nothing halloweeny about this it's just an update pls dont get confused)

It’s well past sundown on a Saturday night, the bars and cabaret clubs alit with partying and laughter, but Gintoki only has one thing on his mind. 

Hijikata had left a certain impression on him, a melody that seemed to want to replay over and over and over again in his hunger-driven madness. That smell of fear, weaknesses waiting to be exploited. The shine of a rain soaked collarbone, a man with a fog so deep in his head he could see it through his skin. He wants someone _breakable._

All of this, yet Gintoki still had taken him into shelter, kept a pain in his side. He couldn’t kill him, he knew he couldn’t kill him... but right now he wasn’t talking, he didn’t make the big decisions. _It_ did.

 _It_ was always right the more hungry he was, the farther gone; that feeling, a contemptuous flame that was constantly alit in the very mellow of his bones. Never satisfied. Never enough. Not until you take a life, at least. Then it settles down, for a little bit. But once you extinguish a life with this god-forsaken curse, that’s it. You never simply _“go back.”_

Or so he’s told.

There are various energies around him, some scarcely familiar and others new to the life. He doesn’t associate himself with people of his kind willingly save for a select few, and stays far away from the increasingly growing political system and their fractions as best he can. So far, he hasn’t had any trouble with them and he’s not about to give them a reason to cause him shit anyways. 

He’s walking down a stretch of Kabukicho’s more seedy bars and hotels, an area he’s well accompanied to. It’s popular for other kindred too, a good place to find quick, easy, and decent blood, all that left a lingering taste of alcohol on the tongue. 

He hasn’t quite decided which bar he wants to sneak into yet, and a few businesses down a couple practically bursts out the doors, the man with an arm around the woman’s waist, leading her by the hand full of ass he undoubtedly has. Their laughing is obnoxious, fueling the ever growing headache he’s had since his encounter with Hijikata last night. They walk parallel to him, the man obviously showing off his inebriated catch; Gintoki can tell through the way he’s walking, the positioning of his shoulders all hunched back. He’s fairly young, several years younger than himself, and too damn cocky for his own good. The man laughs when Gintoki’s eyes accidentally shoot a glare at them, commenting on how he looked like he could use a drink. 

He says nothing in reply, walking straight past them; the man laughs once more before pulling the two into the nearest alley. Gintoki doesn’t care, not at this point in time. He's too focused on maintaining the façade to think about every single action of his fellow kindred, or to feed into their pointless tauntings.

Rolling his shoulders back to make himself look some level of welcoming, he ducks into the next bar, one he frequented often with a nice owner and rather clean bathrooms. Always a plus― regardless of if you needed them or not. 

As soon as he rounds the corner to the main bar area, the owner is already smiling, pouring him his usual as he took a place down at the only free seat at the counter. His name is Yoshimura, an older man with a fine taste in sake and a diligent little business in a bad part of town. He’s always good conversation, and that makes Gintoki look better for those around him who happen to be watching. 

And there’s a few people doing exactly that, he can feel the lingering of eyes trailing him when he shifts, waiting for an opportunity to move in. Which comes but a moment later, the two people next to him sliding Yoshimura money before hastily exiting the bar. 

What seems like a pair of friends comes up and immediately takes the momentarily empty seats, the woman buying Gintoki another sake with a wave of her hand and an all but innocent grin. She explains rather bluntly that they were in a competition to see which one of them he’d hook up with, and the loser had to pay the tab for the night. She’s got her arm resting confidently slumped on the countertop, her short kimono-like dress showing off her toned legs and her tall black heels. 

Gintoki openly inspects her, her eyes never leaving his own, glossy smirk waiting for his reaction. He can’t help but laugh, both to his meal being covered and to flashbacks of his days where Takasugi, Sakamoto, and himself would make similar agreeances. He downs the rest of his sake, shaking the hand that was held out to him. 

“Good!” The woman practically purrs, tossing her silky, curled black hair behind her. “My name is Matsuda Nemura, but you can just call me Nene~ That's what everyone else does." She turns in the bar stool, allowing Gintoki to get a good look at the guy behind her. “He’s Akito.” The man is quieter, definitely less outspoken and confident but has a decent face and build. Both are a fine choice for him, it’s just up to who he can get out the bar first. 

“Did you drag him out tonight?” Gintoki laughs again, making sure the air was clear and comfortable, pushing back the ache further. _Just a little while longer._

“Looks like it, right?” She giggles, ordering herself a drink. “No, he’s here of his own accord, believe it or not. He wouldn’t have agreed to the bet if I had forced him out.” Nene winked at him, nudging Akito’s arm with her own. 

The conversation ensures steadily for another thirty minutes, Gintoki idly inputting information and answering questions to stay in it, but not too invested. He’s got other things to worry about than simply a bet made between two friends. No doubt about it, if he were any other man, he would have chosen Nene, with her gentle touches and calculated grace. But Gintoki is not any other man, and there’s something… different that’s calling him to Akito. He’s sarcastic, reserved, his personality more fitting to Gintoki’s mood and needs tonight. An easier catch. Nene looks like a good time, all three of them know it, but she’s just not what he’s looking for. Besides, with how much she’s drinking it’s going to catch up to her soon, so either way Akito would be faster to sneak out the bar with. 

The four days of not eating are catching up to him, quickly. There’s a nonexistent grumble in his stomach; an aching need for fulfillment and momentary satisfaction. Alcohol can only suppress a fraction of life’s troubles, and it’s fast approaching its end for Gintoki’s tonight. Besides, as nice as the bathrooms were, he wasn’t looking to throw up in them before eating. 

Soon enough, as predicted, Nene excuses herself, battling her way through the drunken karaoke station to the restrooms. He leans over, whispering in Akito’s ear while he refilled the man’s sake glass for him, hand gently pressing against the other’s back. His next meal downs the alcohol like it was his first glass of the night and tells Yoshimura that the tab was on Nene. The bar owner waves him goodbye as they leave, and they’re far gone before she ever realizes it. 

Now typically, Gintoki would just stop the night here, get what he came for and leave, but this time is something different. Aside from the need scratching rather painstakingly within his throat, there’s also a burn growing more prominent in his gut, one he hasn’t soothed in a little over a month. He could stop, he doesn’t need sex like he used to, but he’s already set on the path for the hotel and he’s in just the mood for fucking someone into the mattress. 

Akito’s just a little over twenty-one, and from how he acts, fairly new into the dangerous Kabukicho nightlife. He almost feels bad, but there’s a certain lack of empathy he’s missing currently and right now he wants nothing more than a warm body, virgin or not. 

They swing into the nearest hotel, Gintoki quickly paying and leading Akito up the stairs to the third story room. The walls are a dark grey, accented by the warm lighting and various crimson embellishments. There’s a balcony too, and on the nightstand lube, condoms, and a pack of cigarettes. Akito excuses himself, already knowing his role, which is a bit of an underestimate on his part. Gintoki doesn’t dote on it however, and lights up a cigarette as the shower water turns on. He gets undressed, taking the time to fold his clothes somewhat decently and places them in the nightstand’s drawer next to the bed.

This should be nice. 

By the time that Aki gets done, Gintoki’s gone through two more cigarettes. He puts down the one that he was currently smoking and gets up to turn off the lights as Akito settles under the thin sheets. God damn it all, he was hungry. This might not have been the best idea he’s ever had, because he can feel the small transformations edging to come out; his eyes faintly glowing in the darkness of the room. Not like it really mattered, his partner wouldn’t remember most of this by the time that tomorrow morning fell anyways. 

Gintoki climbs into bed like a predator to its prey, and Akito’s arms instinctively wrap themselves around Gintoki’s neck, pulling on tuffs of his hair. “I must warn you,” he whispers, nails trailing down, slightly scratching the sensitive skin on the other’s stomach. He can hear Aki’s heartbeat speed up and his toes curl with the touch. “I’m a bit of an S.” 

Akito smirks, eyes locked with his own, “It’s alright, most of your kind is.” Gintoki says nothing and his body doesn’t falter or indicate that he was surprised at the other’s comment in any way. Akito laughs at the lack of reaction, arms flopping down onto the pillows playfully. “It’s okay, that’s precisely why I took on that dumb bet in the beginning. I’m one of those who is hooked on your kind.” 

“If my name _ever_ comes out of your mouth after tonight, you’re dead.” The threat, although whispered, is filled with conviction; his eyes never straying from the human’s. 

“Not the first time I’ve heard that, and look― I’m still here~” Gintoki snorts in reply, allowing his teeth and nails to grow, his crimson eyes already long aflame in the darkness. “Don’t take it so seriously, Sakata-san… Let’s just have fun. We have mutually aligned interests, after all.” 

Gintoki doesn’t say anything, having completely underestimated this man. He sighs, nails continuing to trail down skin, scratching harder, making sure to leave tender marks in their wake. Akito’s hands grab fist fulls of hair, pulling as Gintoki sucked a mark on his inner thigh. There’s a silence in the room, a reality he plans on completely switching in the next few seconds. 

“If you’re so used to this,” he says, taking Akito’s cock into his mouth and sucking all the way up and off with a pop. “Then why did your heart start to race so much when we started?”

“Partially because of the thrill of sex and partially because I know I’m- _ah!_ playing with fire, Sakata-san…”

Gintoki hums in reply, licking his way around Akito’s length before dropping back down. His fangs were out, a power that was now completely out of his control, so he had to be overly careful he didn’t cut a giant gash in his partner’s penis. 

“Bloodplay is a yes, I’m assuming?”

“As long as I live to see the next day, sure.” Gintoki chuckled, replacing his mouth with his hand and immediately going back up to Akito’s already marked up torso, cutting little lines into skin and licking them clean, the flesh dancing underneath his lips. 

As a starving man, he could only take so much more of eating crumbs while the main dish lay perfectly fine in front of him. He was hungry, but still in control― held mostly together by the amount of alcohol in his immortal system; so he trusts himself when he goes up to Akito’s neck and sinks his teeth in, taking just enough to give the other man just a taste of what he’d set out for tonight. 

_The captivating sting of being embraced._

He doesn’t know what it’s like, only the blinding, searing pain of death and rebirth. He can’t attest to his own experiences, however the splash of warmth between them and trembles beneath his touch speak for themselves. Gintoki licks the wounds clean, allowing Akito a moment to come down from his high while reaching over and popping open the cap to the lube. There’s a wave of contagious warmth that flows through his skin from the body underneath him, and it’s times like these that bring him back into reality. He wipes his mouth clean with the back of his hand, smudging a streak of blood onto his cheek. Tonight was going to be long for both him and his mortal partner, but it would all be well worth the fight for patience. 

-

Hijikata awakes to the smell of dew and the morning’s sun, dust hanging in the warming rays like a miniature constellation. He pushes aside the covers to his futon, his hair tangled around his neck and a mess in his face. The house is quiet, save for the birds softly talking to each other in the courtyard and the buzz of bumblebees loitering around in the flowers outside his door. 

He stands, wooden floorboards aged by the countryside’s cold winters creaking underneath his bare feet. The mirror on the other side of the room immediately insinuates him to find his comb and brush out his locks before someone walked in to see if he was awake. Tidiness was always an discipline to the family― hell, with his record he couldn’t afford a bad hair day while a guest was around. 

After his hair was tangle free and up secured by a ribbon, he opened his door to the sunlight, eyes having to adjust to its shine. Across the courtyard sat Tamegoro, equipt with a book in his hand as he leaned against the black pine. As soon as he noticed Hijikata’s presence, he turned his head, smile as warm as the sun kissing his skin, closing his book. 

Hijikata practically pranced over to his brother’s side, sitting down next to him and peeking over his shoulder to see what book he was reading. Even as a teenager, his respect for his older brother had not dissipated into a teenage rebellion as it had for so many other aspects of his life. He still carried the same childlike wonder and admiration he had in his earlier years. 

“Good morning, Toshiro. What plans do you have today?” Tamegoro says, voice light as the flowers. 

Hijikata smiles, head falling back against the pine as he looked up at the sky through the leaves. “Ah, I was thinking about going to visit Mitsuba.”

“Well, it’s rude to leave a lady waiting. She knows you’re coming?” 

Hijikata snorts a small laugh out. “Of course. I remember what happened last time I didn’t tell you.”

Tamegoro chuckles, the hand that had been keeping his place in his Matsuo Bashō haiku collection opening back up to his page. “Come back before the evening, then.” 

Hopping up and dusting off his kimono, he set out through the back entrance to the house for the Okita’s, the rice fields on either side of him swaying delicately with the summer’s warm breeze. It takes him a while of alternating between light jogging and speed walking so he doesn’t show up to Mitsuba’s house looking and smelling like a pig. It’s a while later he finally gets there, only lightly sweating and still looking like he could pass for a wealthy farmer’s son and not the worker under him. 

He knocks on the door, trying to keep his smile from becoming too out of character. Her younger brother and honorary member of the dojo at his age answers, allowing him in with directions to her room, which of course, young Toshiro felt all too scandalous at the idea of coming into her household without her specific invitation, nevertheless her room. 

He warily shuffles his way through the house, stopping only when he had reached her bedroom door. Kneeling in front of it, he knocks on the shoji with three gentle taps, all going unanswered. Sougo waves him in with a single hand, red eyes deathly pale, staring as Hijikata reached to slide the door to the side. He looks ahead, a pit somewhere in his stomach growing, knotting, threatening for reasons unbeknownst to him. 

There’s a futon in the middle of the room, covers pulled all the way up to the top, a body in the middle, unmoving. Seemingly materialized from nowhere, the smell of rainwater immediately engulfs his nose while his eyes begin stinging like he’s being held under water. It’s hard to breathe, and when he looks over to Sougo to receive some sort of help for the unnatural flood of feelings, the boy has vanished, leaving him alone in a house that was not his. 

The futon is pulling Hijikata to its side, and he anxiously crawls over to its call, hand inches away from the side of the fabric. It wants Hijikata to open it, the lump underneath its covering motionless to his presence. Hesitantly, as if it would bite if he wasn’t careful, he closes his eyes and takes the blanket in hand, slowing peeling it up off of the thing underneath. He’s holding a breath he wasn’t aware of until it got caught in the middle of his throat at the sight before him. 

The body of Okita Mitsuba, barely breathing, neck sliced below the ear and organs strewn messily out of her torso. He goes to scream, yell, _something―_ but nothing comes out other than a small, ghastly pitch as he scrambles backward. He’s hyperventilating, the oncoming threat of last night’s dinner scrambling around like ants in his stomach. She struggles to breathe, with every exhale a bloody gurgle stopped it in its tracks; the intervals between each breath growing shorter and shorter. He can’t look away from her eyes and their sickly, blank redness, mere moments away from death. He watches her take her last breath as he stayed frozen in place, unable to do anything but stare back at the body before falling helplessly to his side.

The moment his body hits the floor Hijikata gasps, head shooting up from his desk, hand reaching for a sword that wasn’t at his hip. He’s sobbing, struggling through the tears to find a sense of leveled breathing. He wipes his eyes vehemently with the cuffs of his jacket, beads of sweat falling off his chin with the tears and dripping onto the report he’d been working on before he had fallen asleep. 

It’s dark out, and the only ounce of light that’s illuminating his room is from the crack underneath the door. He must’ve been asleep for a decent amount of time considering the fact that no one seemed to have come in and bothered him at all during his unwanted and very unwelcoming nap. 

Stripping his jacket off and yanking the cravat from the chokehold it had around his neck, he stumbled to his feet, grabbing his favorite blue yukata and heading straight for the bath. His white button-up shirt was caked onto his skin, the anxiety from the damn nightmare still running through him.

He turns on the water to a decently cold setting, hoping that it would chase out all of his body’s current plagues. He’s in and out in a second, ducking back into his room and fishing out his sake from its reserve, a much needed venture. He checks the time on his clock, eleven forty-two pm. Hijikata groans, downing the small glass. Not a second later, Sougo peeks his head in through the door, knocking always too much of a hassle for him to achieve. 

“Hijikata-san, what are you doing in here? Nothing unfit of the vice-commander, I would hope.” He says, snotty little monotone voice annoying him just like it had for the past decade. 

“What do you want?” Hijikata says, picking back up his dip-pen from where it had made a blob of black ink on the report. “Surely more than to accuse me of behaviors you have no right to, being the sadistic bastard you are.”

Sougo laughs at the remark, twirling his face mask on a finger. “No, Kondo-san told me to tell you that the Mimawarigumi has had another murder happen in one of their districts.”

Hijikata curses, fist grabbing a handful of his own wet hair. “You’ve got to fucking kidding me…” There’s a pause as he thinks, “This is like the thirteenth dead!”

“Well, a hundred and seventeen if you want to count the hundred and four from the warehouse.” 

He groans again, wanting nothing more than to shove the pen through the desk. This investigation was getting nowhere, even with his best men at the lead. This was their job. They should all be good at tracking down vampires for god’s sake, most of his investigators had been working in the field more than six years, having come from the countryside and the Roshigumi like himself. If they knew how to do this, then why was everyone at such a loss? _What was different?_

He kicks Sougo out, stress once again pinching his shoulders up as he tossed the various extremities around in his head. Hours pass by, report after painstaking report, the dead, the missing, the scared. Never before had he had to deal with a crisis on this scale and to work hand in hand with the Shogun as they did, that was saying something. He’s at a loss, and by the time four a.m. hits he turns off his lamp, sets his alarm, and settles into bed― having finally come to a conclusion. 

Tomorrow comes and goes quickly, the afternoon sun just barely covered by the clouds as he walks down familiar streets. He needs to talk to someone, and to return a certain white yukata. 

-

There’s a still silence lingering in the hotel room, only disrupted by the sound of moving cars in the streets below and the occasional exhale of tobacco smoke. Akito is almost asleep, Gintoki on the last cigarette of the box when he puts it out, rolling over to face the human. 

He speaks, his voice low, pressing. “Does the name Miyake Kazuo ring any bells to you?”

Akito stays silent; however only for a moment, knowing good and well he couldn’t hide anything from the man beside him. 

“It’s… it's familiar.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for coming to my ted talk.
> 
> find me on tumblr @gintokiu
> 
> lol havent said that in a hot minute  
> have a good day everyone. i love yall.
> 
> edit 11/14/18: i accidentally deleted my tumblr last night. im a fucking IDIOT DONT ASK HOW IT HAPPENED LMAO anyways, im following a bunch of people because i want to have a decent blog and i cant do that by following only two accounts like I am so yeah  
> the username is the same, by the way  
> god im stupid   
> five god damn years gone.
> 
> sigh.


	7. Life is Full of Surprises.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gintoki is civil for once and Katsura is being Katsura.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bet you'd thought you'd seen the last of me.

“I was talking up a vampire at a bar a few weeks ago, a man by the name of Asato Takuma, worked under Katsura― I don't know if he still does or not. Anyways, he was, in your vampire sense, blackout drunk while saying all this to me. Told me how he’d been drinking because he’d just “seen a man get decapitated for some insignificant bullshit.” I asked him what he meant, he told me that one of his fellow gang members, Miyake Kazuo, had just been killed for threatening the security of the gang.” Akito says, tracing the cuts on his stomach mindlessly while he talked. 

“What’d he do?” 

“Not sure. But he said how this guy… Kawahara… something was going all ballistic, yelling about how he was gonna quit the gang, cursing the lives of all kindred. I don't know, that’s all he told me and I didn’t want to know more. Ignorance keeps us humans alive when dealing with your kind.” 

Gintoki nods in agreeance, passing over the last cigarette to Akito, who graciously took it. “I understand.” He slides off the side of the bed, fixing his covers up nicely before putting on his clothes. 

Akito watches him make his way to the door, smoke delicately blown out of his lips as he relaxed. “See you around.” 

“Don’t get yourself killed playing with fire like you are.” 

There’s a laugh before he gets a reply. “Something tells me you’re not one to talk.” Gintoki snorts and Akito can only grin; he closes the door quietly behind him, the scent of tobacco still lingering on his tongue. 

-

It’s currently six in the morning, two days after the last murder, and he’s sitting in front of the Bakufu police headquarters waiting for the gates to open. He’s attending a meeting pertaining to the recent killings and the public’s outrage over how the police forces have been handling it. What should be happening at this meeting is them discussing actual solutions, what will happen is multiple threats to all their jobs and lots of yelling. 

He’s accompanied by Yamazaki, who was just the driver, and Sougo. Yamazaki was his head spy and Sougo his first captain on the front lines for the kindred extermination effort. He has to give it to Yamazaki, for as much shit as Hijikata gives him, Yamazaki is a rather diligent hard working man once you take away the badminton racket. Sougo, however, Sougo was mostly a different story― skipping out on the important things. Just this morning, Hijikata had been pleasantly surprised when he had gotten in the car and Sougo was actually there. 

After a couple minutes of Hijikata running his day’s plans through his head, the gates opened before him, allowing them and several other Mimawarigumi and Bakufu officials to enter into the Imperial Palace. Soon enough, they reach their specific meeting hall, each of them taking a seat at their set tables. He can see Sasaki Isaburo and his right hand Nobume across the room, both of them munching on glazed donuts quietly. Hijikata crosses his arms, leaning back in his chair as Matsudaira took his sweet time. 

There are whispers all around them, talks of what the upper officials in administration could be wanting to call a meeting together for, what could possibly come next after all the bloodshed. A man behind him whispers something about how the mass public is starting to catch onto the secrets that the government has been hiding from them. The man next to him says the riots would be worse if they had. 

Hijikata’s too tired for all the gossip, especially this early. He wishes he could pull what Sougo was doing, who had already leaned back in his chair, sleeping mask over his eyes accompanied by a slight snore. Shame. 

He knew he was here for a good reason, he can’t say he necessarily wants to be known as lazy either, so he perks his back up a little straighter in the chair and texts Kondo his plans for taking off work a little early later in the day. 

Soon Matsudaira steps onto the small platform, face as pinched as ever, cigarette lowly burning between his index and middle fingers. He’s not yelling, not yet at least, and he calls the meeting to order with a long glare around the room. 

“You all know why we’re here…” He draws out, emphasizing the _‘why’._ “We are gathered here today to talk about how there have been over twenty killings… and not one single person avenged.” 

There’s silence across the room, ever-present guilt hanging in the air, choking them like a noose. Matsudaira continues, _“Why- is- that-?!”_ He slams his fist on the podium after each word. “The people are starting to lose trust in their government, the bakufu, and most importantly, the shogun! We were precisely put into place to uplift and protect not only the shogun’s life, but his image as well! It’s this insolence that is sparking riots among the civilians! What have you to say for yourselves? Please, present your findings to the elects, starting with _you,_ Toshiro.”

Gently sliding his chair back and bowing, he opens the folder he brought containing an overview of all the leads that the Shinsengumi had collected since the time of the first murder, and begins to deliberate the case. When he finishes, Matsudaira nods slowly, then moves onto Isaboro. Isaboro’s case is shabby at best, there are multiple missing links in almost everything he presents as evidence and most importantly, there's no leads. 

Once done, Sasaki sits down, indifferent to the restless legs bouncing in the room and the palpable air of frustration brewing because of not only his lack of evidence, but the lack of evidence as a whole. Matsudaira just rolls his neck, the cracking of built-up stress echoing throughout the room. “Interesting.” Is all he says before he too closes the folder he’d brought up to the podium to reference. 

There’s a long sigh, the annoyingly bright, buzzing LED lights causing glare to fall over his aviator sunglasses in the process. “I shouldn’t have to say this, but if this becomes a further problem, expect some… _changes_ in the program. That’s all.”

-

“Hijikata-san, Harda and his team think that they might have uncovered a kindred hideout and they want you to see the pictures. It’s near the recent murder too, which makes them all suspects for the killing.” Yamazaki says as he’s driving Hijikata and Sougo back to the barracks from the Bakufu meeting.

“Tell him to bring them to me as soon as possible. I’m tired of getting yelled at for not having any damn leads on the murders.” 

“Is that what just happened?” 

“Mmm, technically I can’t say.”

“I see…” 

“At least we’re actually trying to solve them. The idiots at the Mimawarigumi have horse shit for evidence.” Hijikata says with a snap, feeling his shoulders tense up more as each second passed. It’s true, compared to Isaboro’s faction, the Shinsengumi’s insignificant leads made them seem like they actually knew where they were going with the investigation. Despite it all, it didn’t exempt him from getting the higher-ups wrath when it came down to it. He wasn’t trying to be the perfect child here, not at all, it was all just another slap in the face― a cruel reminder how terribly this case had been going, with not one single killer brought to justice as the bodies kept piling up. 

Hijikata smokes his way to the barracks, thanking Yamazaki for the ride when he arrived. He shuts the door behind him, sitting down to do reports until he could find time to visit the perm’s apartment later on.

-

The first thing Gintoki does when he wakes up is call Katsura. He knew that if Katsura wasn’t at the apartment then he wasn’t about to risk sleeping, so he was bound to get an answer. Sure enough, the wig picks up, and Gintoki tells him to meet him at the apartment as soon as he could. 

Gintoki loiters over to the bathroom, rinsing off quickly and brushing his teeth so he’d at least be smelling like mint and not sex and tobacco when Katsura arrived. He still needed to get more money for the kid’s food for the rest of the week so as soon as the night hit in a few hours, he’d be out on the town once more.

It’s four hours later that Katsura finally makes it to the apartment, the sun inching it’s way down in the sky. He lets himself in, not hearing the fast beat of two teenage hearts inside. 

“I brought sake.” The wig states, setting the alcohol down in front of Gintoki and blinking into the kitchen to get cups. 

“I saw.” 

The one by one, cups are tossed to Gintoki from the kitchen doorway, and the perm flings an arm back to catch them before they hit the floor and caused Otose to yell at them from the bar below. “So!” Katsura says, flopping down onto the couch as the perm poured their drinks. “What’s going on?” 

“What’s going on with you first? Why are you so energetic?” 

“No reason in particular. Not yet at least...” 

Gintoki furrowed his eyebrows at the answer, downing his cup of sake. “Anyways, I need to talk to you about a situation I was recently informed of. Asato Takama, you know the name?”

“Yeah, he works under me. Why?” 

“He knows where or what happened to Kawahara, I’m sure of it.” 

“Would he be at your base?”

“Said bye to him before I came here so he should still be there. I doubt he went out to feed.”

Gintoki doesn’t say anything, instead getting up to go to his room to change from his green pajamas into his normal attire. Katsura follows him, the bottle of sake in hand. 

“How are you?”

“‘M fine,”

“How are you really, Gintoki? When was the last time you ate something?” 

“Last night, now get off me. I know what I’m doing.” 

Katsura shrugs, mumbling, “That’s not the issue though―”

Once more, Gintoki drops the conversation, tightening his belt in place. 

“Ready?” Gintoki nods, and Katsura is about to turn around but before he can he stops abruptly, whispering, “You hear that right?” 

There’s footsteps coming up the steps, heavy, unfamiliar footsteps. “That’s not the weight of Shinpachi and definitely not Kagura, and Otose is quieter than that.” 

‘They’re no kindred either.. You weren’t expecting anyone here today, were you?” 

“Why would I invite someone over while I have one of Edo’s biggest terrorists in my house?!” 

“Wow, rude-”

“Shhh! Just hide!” 

He doesn’t have time to figure out where Katsura blinks off to, all he knows is by the time he makes it out of his bedroom, there’s a knock on the door. Gintoki slides his bouken into place, preparing for the worst. He undoes the lock, opening the door to meet none other than the demon vice-commander. 

“H-Hi.” Hijikata unusually stutters out, handing Gintoki the yukata he borrowed. “Thank you for your help the other night...” Gintoki looks down at the blue swirls, still trying to piece together the situation. “It’s washed, of course.”

“Yeah. No problem.” 

“May I come in? I have something I want to speak with you about.” 

“Yeah…” Gintoki moves aside, sliding the door open a little further to let Hijikata in.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about this earlier, I didn’t think you would appreciate me using police databases to get your phone number.” 

Gintoki lightly chuckles, but it’s more of a nervous ruse than anything. Undoubtedly, Katsura knows good and well who exactly is in his house because he’s hiding his presence so well that Gintoki doesn’t even know where the idiot went. 

“Did I interrupt something?” Hijikata asks, sitting down at the couch, the two sake cups still sitting on the table, glaring mockingly back at him. _Fuck._

“What? I’m lonely, can’t a man drink his sorrows away with his make-believe friend?” Gintoki grabs the cups up from the table, taking them to the sink. He turns around, head facing Hijikata as he spoke, hands reaching for the clean cups in the cabinet. “Just kidding, those were from last night, I’m just too laz-” 

He’s got two fingers in Katsura’s nose before he realizes that the bastard is hiding in his cabinet. 

There’s a moment of silence where the two make eye contact, and Katsura pulls his hand up to take Gintoki’s index and middle fingers out of his nostrils.

“Is… something wrong?” The vice-commander says from the living room, undoubtedly having seen the demeanor change seconds before. 

“No, sorry― I just thought I saw a rat in my cabinet but it was just my eyes…” Gintoki passive aggressively snatches the glasses in a way that Katsura can clearly see, taking caution not to bring any more attention to the situation than what had already been brought. 

He doesn’t know where the sake bottle went when Katsura fled, the idiot probably has it in there with him, but he doesn’t have the time or the energy to check and see. “Whiskey is all I got, that fine with you?”

“Ah- yes, that’s fine.” 

Gintoki makes his way back to the living room, placing the cups with ice in them on the table and pouring their drinks. “So, what was it you wanted to talk about?” 

“I got a lead today from one of my men...” Hijikata nods towards the brown folder on the table, taking a sip of his whiskey. “Thought maybe you might know something about it.” 

The perm opens the folder, skimming through it’s contents. The first page was a tip on a Kabukicho club called _Essence,_ supposedly co-run by two kindred he’d never heard of before. He had visited the club on a few occasions, never staying too long. 

“I know the place. However, it’s not new news for popular clubs to be run by vampires, commander.” 

“Look at the address.” Hijikata says, “The last victim in this area was killed not a block away.” 

Gintoki shrugged, “It’s Kabukicho. I’d say that area of town isn’t good but this whole town isn’t good.” 

“Just look at the next page before you dismiss it.” 

Gintoki flips the page over, and a collection of fuzzy photos taken hurriedly at night lay before him. They’re not the easiest to make out because of the rain and the circumstances, but there’s definitely the dumpster and the alleyway, and towards the direction of the nightclub there’s the light trail of wispy smoke that follows behind vampires after they blink. 

The photo underneath it grabs his attention, however. A tall, skinny man, one he’d definitely seen at the club at least twice, was turning the corner, presumably before he began to blink away back towards the nightclub. Although the picture was not making it easy to see, his hands are definitely bloody and there’s an odd pattern of darkness to his clothing in certain places, a darkness that rainwater soaked clothing couldn’t make. 

“Hmm.” 

“Anything?”

“I’ve seen his face when I visited. He’s definitely tied to the club one way or another. He’s a vampire, that’s for sure; the man carries himself like he owns the world but I never really had any intuition that he was a big shot, or that he would kill a man in cold blood like that. He’s actually pretty reserved, from what I can remember.”

“I sent a subordinate to investigate the facility tonight, if he reports anything, I’m going myself tomorrow night to see.” Hijikata finishes his drink, setting the glass down on the table. “I’d like you to come with me.”

“Huh? Why me? Don’t you have Shinsengumi spies for that or something?” 

“Yes, but high profile kindred tend to know the faces of Shinsengumi leaders such as myself, so if I bring you instead of a subordinate of mine, I not only have a familiar face of the club, but I also only have to worry about disguising one of us.” 

Gintoki has to hold back his laugh so he won’t spit whiskey all over the table and the vice-commander. With a hard gulp, he grins, putting his glass down and leaning back against the couch mockingly. 

“You’re gonna put on a wig, aren’t you?”

“Y-yes? That comes with it. Why are you asking?”

“You know, I was gonna ask you for payment but on second thought... if I get to see you dress up as a woman, you’ll get Gin-san’s help for free.” There’s a sadistic smile that creeps across the perm’s face and Hijikata narrows his eyes at it before giving up with a sigh. 

“Well it wouldn’t be the first time... you have yourself a deal, asshole.” Hijikata gets up to leave, closing the folder and putting it back safely in the inside of his jacket. 

“See you tomorrow then, Miss…” 

Hijikata rolls his eyes, glaring back at his recently acquired informant. “Himiko.” 

“Until then, Himiko-chan~” 

“I’ll call you tomorrow to discuss a meeting place, and I’m taking your number from the database since you want to be an ass about it.” Gintoki just chuckles in reply, watching Hijikata grab up his katana and leave for the night. 

As soon as the vice-commander is all the way down the stairs, he hears the loud burst of a cup falling and breaking on the counter, spreading shards of glass across the kitchen making Gintoki once more reminded of the fiend stuffed in his kitchen cabinet.

“You’re making this way harder then it needs to be, just get out of the cabinet. The blinds are closed, no one’s gonna see anything if they’re spying, just _please,_ get out of my fucking cabinet.” Kasura blinks down and into the living room, finishing off the last bit of whiskey from the bottle. 

“I do believe...” He slurs, eyes softly glowing, white teeth peeking out from below his upper lip. “That if we weren’t dead, we’d be alcoholics!” 

“Zura, I don’t think that you have to be dead to be an alcoholic.”

Katsura laughs, then his face gets too serious too quick and Gintoki knows he’s reached his limit. The wig blinks over to the bathroom to empty out the contents of his stomach, while Gintoki takes a moment of (relative) silence to contemplate what eternal life is going to be like with Katsura.

“Curse my lack of digestive capabilities-!” He says, fist in the air vengently as the other hand clung to the door frame.

“Don't act like you didn’t hurl up alcohol as a human too, now come on; I’m trying to meet with this underling of yours before it gets to be hunter territory of night.” Zura fixes his haori before following after the perm, the door to the apartment locked behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is a thrown together mess but for my mental and emotional well being I want it up for you guys to enjoy because I miss y'all. really really bad. so here, enjoy this mess. and I'll be back soon I promise <3


	8. Hijikata Makes a Great Commander and an Even Better Woman.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gintoki does things and Hijikata is badass no matter what you do to limit him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- okay listen i changed a bit of something that doesn't mean anything to any of yall yet EXCEPT the fact that [[[Hijikata is NOT talking to Kawahara Yushiro's wife in chapter four. He is talking to Miyaki Kazuo's]]] sorry for the confusion, but it's for the best! 
> 
> \- small not really rape trigger because nothing happened but could still make people uncomfortable.

It’s just after eleven by the time Katsura knocks the passcode on the door, a voice from inside questioning the knocker. Zura replies with a stark _‘it’s me’_ and there are several bolts undone quickly before the hideout can be entered. Of course, Katsura walks in first and Gintoki’s but a step behind him, however the drag of several blades being taken out of their sheaths showed exactly who was not welcome. 

“He’s with the captain, put the weapons down.” Says a man sitting at a large round table to the left, idly cleaning his own katana. 

“Hiroshi, thank you. Have you seen Takuma?” 

“He’s in the back.”

Katsura doesn’t say anything else, instead leading Gintoki to where their man supposedly was. He can feel the numerous pairs of eyes on him, those few in the room still of mortal living trying to figure out where Gintoki landed on the spectrum; though, of course, he wasn’t about to let anyone know his secrets. 

He’s lead through a series of bedrooms before ending up in what he assumed was the primary strategy room, equipped with a magnitude of ink and paper and a makeshift fireplace that had left a smokey patch on the ceiling. Gintoki, only there to observe the conversation between the two, takes a seat down at the unkept table, full of indents from upset pens writing too deep. 

The man Akito mentioned, Asato Takuma, was presumably shoveling out a previous meeting’s ashes when they had walked in, and he swiftly bowed respectively before reaching for a piece of paper on the table, writing, _‘may I speak, captain?’_ Katsura nods his head, granting him permission before taking a seat next to Gintoki. 

“What’s the matter sir, if I may ask?” The soft-spoken man questioned, kneeling down onto his knees to continue the conversation. 

“I need you to tell me everything you know about two men, Miyake Kazuo and Kawahara Yushiro.” 

“Well, Kawahara Yushiro was one of our men, as you know. He was good friends with a man from another gang, Miyake Kazuo. I don’t know where Kawahara went after, but we were out drinking one night, the three of us and-” The man looks down to the ground, his face growing more bothered by each word. “I didn’t know him well, but Miyake’s gang leaders appeared in front of us. Old, powerful men. I stumbled back, they grabbed him by the hair, and in one swing cut of his head! _I...-!_ Kawahara was yelling, putting up a fight, but neither one of us could have killed those bastards―” He pauses, shaking his head. “They were strong. I don't know what Kawahara was in, but I do know they all had the same marking, some dark symbol on the back of their neck. They always reminded me more of a cult than a gang, in any sense...” 

Katsura exchanges a look with Gintoki, one of a knowing reminiscent, before turning back around to their current informant. “Did the leaders say anything to you before they left?” 

“Only one thing… it was something about how Kawahara had been threatening the security of the gang.” 

“What happened to Kawahara’s body?” 

“I don’t know, Miyake cursed me off and I assume he buried him somewhere.” 

“Anything else informational you know of?” 

“No sir, I believe that’s all.” As if he was hit by something, he stands up suddenly, fists clenched tightly. “Pardon my outburst sir, but if you are thinking about going after those men you can’t!”

Katsura narrows his eyes at the statement, flipping a strand of his hair behind his shoulder. “And why is that?”

“You’re too young, sir. These men are hundreds of years older than us, very powerful! I would like to still have a captain sir, no disrespect intended.” 

“We’re just trying to figure out the story right now, what happens after that is for us to determine.” 

“Yes… sir.” 

“You’ve been very helpful, Takuma. Please, take the night off. And don’t speak of this to anyone else.” Takuma’s eyebrows raise with embarrassment, his pale skin faintly tinted across his cheeks with what little blood ran resided in his body. 

Katsura gets up to leave, Gintoki following right after him wordlessly. After a closing exchange, the perm leaves the hideout; the kids aren’t coming home tonight and there’s enough bare space in the cabinets that Katsura can fit in them. They desperately need some money, and working at night is so much better than going on day jobs. So, he sets out toward the nearest bar, the clinking of glasses already ringing in his ear. 

-

It’s around three in the afternoon when Gintoki finally gets the call from Hijikata, telling him to meet up by the ramen shop across the street from the club at ten later that night. He spends the rest of the day reading Jump and napping with Kagura on the couch. By the time the clock hits nine thirty, he’d just finished baking Kagura a cake with some of the money he made last night because he was foolish enough to let her go grocery shopping on her own. 

Not to say he wouldn’t have bought the junk food she did _if_ he could eat it. 

He definitely would’ve.

He throws on his only clean yukata, the scent strong of vice-commander and Shinsengumi detergent, and lets Kagura know he’ll be home later tonight― promising for big wins on the pachinko machine. He shuts the door behind him, leaving Kagura to devour her cake alone to some soap operas. 

The night air is inviting, its chill glossing over his cold skin like a silk blanket. The club isn’t too far away from the apartment, and the walk there is filled with people getting ready to hit the Kabukicho nightlife once more. So far, he’s doing pretty well to be on his second day of not eating, and he makes a mental note to tell the beast good job later, that’s if he doesn’t regret those words as the night progresses. 

After all, Gintoki doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to get that collarbone out of his mind when he gets hungry enough.

He makes it to the ramen shop at the perfect time, however there’s no v-bang in sight. Was he late? There’s a young woman standing outside, casually typing something on her phone, multiple gold bracelets clinking together and shining in the lantern light. Not seeing Hijikata through the window of the shop, he decides to ask her if she’d seen the vice-commander. He approaches, hand gently grazing her shoulder, and in an instant she’s pulled a knife on him, a dark look in her familiar blue eyes. 

“Oh. You’re here.” Hijikata says, nonchalantly putting back up his blade, Gintoki’s hands still frozen, raised above his shoulders. 

“You look…” He chuckles, giving a one up of the long, shimmering, maroon sequin dress. “Good.”

_“Good”_ was a vast understatement. Hijikata was barely recognizable; with smokey eyeshadow and concealer covering up his bags, the long shimmery dress he wore had a slit down one leg, and sequins that reflected every angle of light. There was just enough space in the unfit sleeves to cover up his muscles when he moved, and it paired well with his short black heels. He’d even gone as far as painting his nails an accent red, to further feminize hands that were too used to swinging a sword. The wig however, that was something. Loosely curled, the dark brown hair parted to the left, floating down and hanging just outside his face, framing Hijikata’s jawline like a picture. It fell just right below his fake breasts, the ends brushed out neatly. Gone was the traditional vice-commander v-cut, tucked safely behind a wig cap. 

“Let’s just get this over with… I’m ready to be out of this itchy piece of shit.” 

Gintoki laughs, motioning for Hijikata to lead the way. He pulls his other sleeve over his shoulder, feeling a little outmatched and not wanting to bring any unwanted attention from looking too out of his level. 

Thankfully, the club is easy to get into. And _packed._

Immediately there’s a bar to the left side of the entrance and it’s less packed than the other areas of the floor, so he nods his head in the direction of the counter and Hijikata follows. 

They procure the last two open seats of the bar, taking a moment to look around and see if they could find their targets with just a quick once-over of the crowd. It’s hard to tell, the music is blaring like always and the crowd of people dancing only multiplies the volume. He’d thought Hijikata’s voice would have been a problem but with this level of sound around them, very few kindred would be able to pick out specific voices without first knowing the owner of that voice was there.

The bartender finally makes it down to them and Gintoki takes it on himself to order them something simple and easy. He’s really trying his best to keep Hijikata from speaking, especially because the bartender was just another vampire working at the club. 

Once their drinks are finished, the kindred slides Gintoki’s toward him, giving him a subtle wink. Undoubtedly, he believes that the perm has got himself a meal,― and Gintoki would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little upset this night wasn’t going to end up with himself getting a couple of mouth fulls of vice-commander. 

But that was beside the point. 

They drink casually for another half hour, taking their time surveying the area. They’ve been pulled into conversation a couple of times by some different people, and Gintoki chats with them until Hijikata starts to give him prolonged glares thorough darkened eyelashes. He can tell Hijikata is not a talker, he’s more used to the immediate barking of orders than talking about what type of dog food people like to use over some rip-off drinks and loud music. The good thing about that is it gives potential in-the-know individuals less time to figure things out, the bad thing is he looks stiffer than a board, sticking out in a crowd. 

No one has seemed to notice anything that Gintoki has observed, everyone was more preoccupied on mingling rather than figuring out identity. Not that anyone cared that Hijikata was in drag, but everything about this _‘infiltration’_ was centered on the fact that the vice-commander stayed hidden in plain sight and it was his job to make sure the plan goes through. 

The more Hijikata trusts him, the less he suspects; meaning, the safer his kids stayed. That was the battle. He never wants them to experience anything near his own childhood. 

This was definitely a kindred hotspot, with a big section of the crowd hardly there for only a fun night out. Gintoki excuses himself from the bar, telling Hijikata he was gonna go have a look around, hand gently grazing over the vice-commander’s back with the statement. 

The man they’re looking for has to be in here somewhere, he’d seen the guy chatting with patrons multiple times. Walking around the dance floor yielded nothing, nor the bathrooms at both sides of the establishment; it’s when he finds his way down a rather secluded hallway set aside from the second bathroom that sparks his curiosity.

It’s no secret what the rooms adorning the hall are for, especially with the paper thin doors separating them. There’s a couple making out in the turn of the hallway, and he quickly passes them before all of a sudden, a door flings open in front of him and a young woman runs out, fixing her dress strap, hitting him in her process of fleeing. She keeps running, a man emerging from the same room, cursing. 

“I told her we didn’t need a condom- _gah,_ fuck it.” He shakes his head, attention now on Gintoki, shrugging his shoulders. “Plenty of other whores to go around.” 

Gintoki laughs, not because he was amused by the man’s lousy sense of humor, but because he’d found their target. 

“Tough night?” 

The owner unashamedly secures his belt buckle, light-hearted grimace adorning his face. “I guess you could call it that. I’ve seen you here before, you’re the guy with the white, unruly head of hair.” 

“That would be me, yes.” 

“If you’re looking for food I can direct you to many... willing sources. Or a fuck, for that matter. Pick yer’ poison, right?” He grins, leaning on the wall beside them, crossing his arms.

“Ah, I think I’ve already got it covered, but thanks for the offer.” He pauses, the beat of the bass behind him filling up the air. “Care for a drink? My partner isn’t much for conversation.” 

“I can spare a few minutes, you seem like an intrestin’ enough guy.” 

Gintoki lets him lead the way to the bar, taking note of the man’s physical features if the night doesn’t go as planned. He’s got longer hair, almost shoulder length that's half tied up in a bun, there’s a scar on his forehead that cuts through his eyebrow on the left side, something he got before he was turned. A tattoo of a demon peeks out from below the sleeve of his white t-shirt, and his way of dressing definitely reflects the asshole in his personality.

When they get to the bar, he doesn’t let the owner get close enough to see Hijikata, who was preoccupied with talking to one of the men they’d met earlier that night. Hijikata looks up from his drink, blue eyes meeting his own. His hand immediately twitches for his phone, which he’d given to Gintoki for safekeeping. While the owner slips his way through the line to get their drinks, Gintoki beelines for the vice-commander, handing him his phone, and exchanging some quick words to make the exchange not look as important as it was. 

He heads back to the owner, who had obtained them a table to sit at and talk. He takes his drink, sitting down to let Hijikata do the rest of the work. “Thanks,” Gintoki says, friendly smile taped on his lips. “I haven’t caught your name yet, or what you do.”

“Nishio Kimura, but most people just call me Nishio. And believe it or not, I run this fine establishment, so the drinks on us.” 

“Oh really? It’s got a good environment to it, that’s for sure.” He takes another sip of his drink, looking around at the crowds. “Must be hard managing this, with how much crowd you pull in.” 

“Ahh, me and my buddy Fukuda handle it fine. Everything’s all about how good the staff is; the better the staff the fewer times you have to… _intervene _in ugly situations.” Gintoki nods in agreeance, lips not wanting to leave the edge of the glass. “So, what about you? What’s your story?”__

__“I run a small business. We do a variety of different things, depending on what you want.”_ _

__“Small and classy with a bit of shade. I like it. So I can count on you to hide my next body then?” He laughs, and Gintoki chuckles along to the joke._ _

__“Haha, I don't know about that one― a bit out of my usual requests.”_ _

__“I’m just playing with you, friend.” He downs the rest of his drink, smile unwavering on his wicked lips. “What’s your name, mate? You seem like the type of man I want to keep around.”_ _

__“Sak-”_ _

__The doors swing open, and there’s a woman that screams out not a moment later _“police!”_ The floor of the building bursts out in hysterical panic, all rushing to the nearest exit. Immediately, Nishio jumps up and cusses, slamming his empty glass down on their table in anger, it’s pieces flying across the floor. He’s trying to figure out whether to abandon the club, giving up his anonymity with the Shinsengumi or to stay and tuff it out, keeping his human ploy going a little longer. It’s this moment of hesitation that secures his fate, and Hijikata yells out _“Tranq him-!”__ _

__Gintoki hits the floor milliseconds before the bursts of tranquilizers are shot, ringing overhead. There’s some more glass that breaks somewhere behind him, and as Gintoki’s pulling himself off the floor, Hijikata’s rushing over, whipping out his knife and slicing a large slit down the arm that their target had been hit on. The blood inside of Nishio rushes to heal the open wound, contaminating itself with the contents of the dart. Meanwhile, Hijikata’s got him by the throat and he unsuccessfully attempts to blink away, falling short of his original destination and landing at the feet of Okita Sougo and a hand full of other highly qualified Shinsengumi officers._ _

__Nishio cries out for help, the realization that he was caught finally catching up to him. Gintoki helps Hijikata get onto his feet, watching as Sougo cuffed him, foot holding his head down onto the filthy club’s ground. Another officer rushes in, the doors now free of fleeing inhabitants, and sticks another IV into the arm of the owner― the bag full of whatever substance that was in the tranquilizers, he assumed._ _

___Now this is playing with fire, _Gintoki whispers to himself; making a mental note never to let Katsura say that to him again.__ _ _

____Nishio is kicking around, trying and failing to stop them from duck-taping the IV in place. There’s no more putting up an act now, his eyes are glowing like a foul fire and no ones letting any of their body parts get near enough that his fangs would be a danger to them. Hijikata and Gintoki join the side of the other officers, Hijikata’s wig and wig cap thrown into the hands of a lower ranking officer to deal with._ _ _ _

____“You’re a _fuckin’_ traitor-!” He bites the curse with fever, drawing out its consonants to better enunciate his animosity for Gintoki. He spits, the saliva landing on the side of the perm’s cheek. “You’re no better than them! Just another bakufu dog, wagging its stupid fuckin’ tail to the demands of the precious fuckin’ shogun!” His words are beginning to slur, the anesthesia finally starting to put him asleep. Gintoki doesn’t say anything to the slander, and he watches as Nishio is hauled up by his arms, wincing― his pain tolerance dropped back down to a mortal’s._ _ _ _

_____“You’re lucky I'm not in the mood to see another one of our kind thrown to the dogs,”_ He whispers, low enough that Gintoki was the only one that could hear the remark. Once more, Gintoki keeps his mouth shut. “You’ve got a snake in the grass, vice-commander...” The vampire laughs and tosses his head back with a mocking hiss, the symptoms of the tranquilizer beginning to make the room spin. _ _ _ _

____Hijikata orders him to be taken to the cells and the officers immediately comply, dragging his now entirely passed out weight towards the doors. Hijikata sighs, running a hand through his unruly hair and letting his shoulders relax. “I’m surprised.”_ _ _ _

____“Huh?” Gintoki questions, using the bottom of his sleeve to wipe off his cheek._ _ _ _

____“You did some serious shit today.” The vice-commander says, smudging his red lipstick slightly off his lips with the back of his hand. “It’s because of you that we were able to take him in tonight.”_ _ _ _

____“I wouldn’t say that; after all, I wasn’t the one that drove head first into broken glass while wearing heels with the sole purpose to knife a man―” Gintoki laughs, watching Hijikata look over his mangled arm, shards of glass stuck all throughout his skin in various depths._ _ _ _

____Hijikata chuckles, sweeping with his palm to get out what shards he could. “Just another day at the office.” He pauses, “You’ll need to come down to the barracks tomorrow, so we can get the full story on how this all went down. I have enough reports to write about tonight, I can save those for tomorrow.”_ _ _ _

____“And if I don’t come?” Gintoki smirks, testing the waters._ _ _ _

____“Warrant for your arrest.”_ _ _ _

____“So what time you want me over?”_ _ _ _

____“Around noon is fine, by then we should have everything mostly sorted out.”_ _ _ _

____Gintoki nods, making his way to the exit of the building. Once more, the night wind is refreshing and it glides over his skin like gentle water; he relishes in being out of that stuffy nightclub. The walk home is short, and by the time he’s reached the apartment he has to take a moment to make sure that Kagura was okay before opening the door, thanks to his anxiety of the night’s events._ _ _ _

____She’s asleep on the couch, TV muted but flashing bright, illuminating her face in the otherwise pitch-black room. Characteristically, she’s got stray, uneaten sukonbu still in her hand, and he tucks it away safely back in the box for her to munch on when she wakes up. Thankfully, in her pajamas already, he gently picks her up, carrying her to the closest while she snored._ _ _ _

____He shuts her door quietly, taking off his dirty yukata, the smell of Hijikata still not gone from it. Gintoki usually would toss it into the hamper for Shinpachi to get the next day, except this time he’s feeling a bit more humbled, so he starts the washer for him. He loves his kids, and he hopes his kids love _him.__ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i promised and i believe i delievered. thanks for being cool with me!


End file.
